Cruel and Unusual Punishment
by Mizvoy
Summary: Post Endgame. Janeway encourages Chakotay and Seven to get married, thinking that she and Chakotay have given up on being together. Instead, all of them suffer, and Janeway and Chakotay endure a terrible burden of guilt.
1. Chapter 1: Called from Exile

Disclaimer: Star Trek Voyager belongs to CBS/Paramount. No infringement intended.

Author's note: The unresolved issues at the end of the Voyager series have fascinated me for years, especially the relationship between Janeway, Chakotay, and Seven of Nine. This story looks at the possible scenario in which Janeway facilitates a premature C/7 wedding, deciding to ignore the fact that their futures have changed because of the Admiral's interference with the time line. As a result, disaster strikes. What is that old saying? "Marry in haste, repent at leisure."

Summary: Post Endgame. Janeway encourages Chakotay and Seven to get married, thinking that she and Chakotay have given up on being together. Instead, all of them suffer, and Janeway and Chakotay endure a terrible burden of guilt.

Cruel and Unusual Punishment

By mizvoy

Part 1 Called from Exile

Sanctus V

2381 (three years after Voyager's return)

Ballinst was a bonded messenger of the well-known Hanchet Group, dedicated to finding lost individuals and delivering items into their hands at an exorbitant price. Not unlike bail bondsmen of earlier eras, their work was tedious and, at times, dangerous, for most people who disappear don't want to be found. However, the pay was worth the risk, in Ballinst's opinion; if he found this man, for example, his pay would allow him to take the rest of the year off.

He arrived at the top of a steep ridge, reined in his antra, and studied the beauty of the pristine valley below. According to his last readings, he should be several dozen kilometers beyond the edge of Sanctus V's civilized district, staring into an unspoiled region that most believed had yet to be explored.

Ballinst knew better. His contact had told him that the leafy treetops of the secluded river valley concealed a log cabin, a deep well, a substantial garden, and two small sheds. He peered through his heat scope and picked up signs of a controlled fire, probably a fireplace, and several moving objects, no doubt the recluse and his animals.

He smiled in satisfaction, pleased that his quick work would garner him a generous bonus that would cover the substantial bribe he'd paid to the region's governor. All that remained was to get his recipient to accept the package and he could return to his home world for the new year celebrations with his family.

He glanced down at the single name on his package.

Chakotay.

The horse-like antra lifted her head, shaking her mane and snuffling as she picked up the scent of the water that flowed through the valley. They had been travelling most of the day, and the poor beast was hot, tired, and thirsty, but Ballinst knew better than to rush into Chakotay's settlement. Any man who concealed himself so completely would not take kindly to an uninvited visitor, nor would he be unprotected. There were proximity alarms to find and disable before Ballinst would be ready to walk up to him. He decided to take his time and arrive at dark, after the recluse had returned to his cabin for the night.

Two hours later, Ballinst walked his antra toward the single-room cabin. He could hear another antra snuffling a greeting in one of the two small sheds and could see a large vegetable garden that started behind the cabin and stretched down to the river. The settlement was neatly organized and maintained.

He secured his animal to a tree branch, fished the packet from his saddlebag, and stepped quietly to the cabin's front door, knocking firmly and then holding his breath as he waited for the occupant to answer.

The door opened and Ballinst faced a tall man in his stocking feet and with a napkin tucked into his shirt. The man peered at his unexpected guest in surprise as the delivery man studied him, as well. His long, salt-and-pepper hair tied at the nape of his neck, and his face weathered and deeply tanned from long hours outdoors. His clothing was made of natural fibers, worn from many months of hard work, and his boots, parked outside the cabin door, reeked with caked mud and manure.

But it was the aroma of a delicious hot meal that caught Ballinst's attention as it wafted past his nose and made his stomach growl. He watched as the surprise on Chakotay's face turned into anger. He must have realized that Ballinst had damaged or disable his proximity alarms.

"Who the hell are you? And what do you want?"

"Hanchet delivery, sir," Ballinst replied. The unspoken phrase of the company's motto hovered between them: Delivery guaranteed--in person and on time. "My client asks that you acknowledge receipt, Chakotay." He held the gleaming metal-clad package toward the man, hoping he'd be so surprised that he'd take it without thinking.

No such luck.

Chakotay looked down at the Starfleet-inscription on the package. "Who says I'm Chakotay?"

"The tattoo is a dead giveaway, sir." Ballinst tried not to smile. He'd done some research into his recipient and had expected the delivery to be a challenge. Not many Starfleet captains disappear into a wilderness for years without having good reason for doing so.

Ballinst was aware of Chakotay's history, of course. He knew that the man had resigned his Starfleet commission and fled from the Federation because of the scandal that surrounded his wife's death, including the nasty rumors about it being a suicide. That disaster had been the last in a long and troubled life. He had been a Starfleet captain in spite of his years as a Maquis cell leader and seven years' exile on the lost ship Voyager. He was a formidable man who was capable of slamming the door in the messenger's face without a moment's hesitation.

Ballinst held the package toward him as the silence stretched, broken only by his antra's impatient snuffle. At long last, Chakotay took the packet from him, running his hands over its smooth surface in obvious appreciation of its elegant engineering. "You can tell your client that I received the parcel."

"Actually, the client asks that I verify your identity." Ballinst held out the delivery PADD, pointing toward the flashing square. "Just press your thumb right there."

"You press it," Chakotay said, in no uncertain terms, as he began to close the door in Ballinst's face.

"Hey!" he glanced over his shoulder at the wilderness that surrounded the clearing as the delectable aroma of hot food filled his nose. "I spent the last four nights sleeping on the ground and eating cold rations. I was hoping to stay indoors tonight."

"You're welcome to stay in the shed. Just be damned sure that you're gone at first light." The door clicked shut and the bolt snapped into place.

Ballinst pressed his thumb into the receipt acknowledged square on the PADD and carefully stowed it in his pack. He walked slowly back to the tree, unfastened his antra, and led her toward the shed on the far side of the clearing.

The antra nuzzled him, and he threw an arm over her neck, grateful for her company. "I know you're lonely, girl. So am I." A feeling of melancholy overwhelmed him as he imagined living in this wilderness alone for months at a time. "I wonder if he'll ever stop punishing himself."

Chakotay watched the messenger disappear into the shed and felt guilty for turning a visitor away from his home without so much as a glass of water or a plate of food. His mother would be disappointed in his treatment of his guest; he could hear her voice as she scolded him, "You should offer him the warmth of your fire, Chakotay, and the bounty of your garden." He wondered if she'd understand that he needed solitude to read the information that the ultra-modern package contained.

He shook his head in dismay. She wouldn't understand any of what had happened to him since Voyager's return. She wouldn't understand his dishonesty, his betrayal, his brutal selfishness and self-indulgence. She would understand, least of all, his discourteous treatment of a stranger.

He sat down at the table and pushed his half-finished meal away, making room for the gleaming Starfleet security packet.

He had an idea the package was from, of course. She had done as he'd asked and had allowed him to leave, but, when she decided to find him, she had spared no expense, hiring the best people available to track him down, no matter what the price.

Kathryn. Since their first meeting ten years earlier, a day hadn't passed without his thinking of her.

What a mess they'd made of their lives, a complete disaster, a public spectacle that had hurt the one person they most wanted to protect, the one who had trusted them, the one who was blameless. He tried to push the memories away, tried to imagine outliving the guilt that suffocated him.

"As long as we're alive," she'd said to him before he disappeared, "we'll always be connected."

He hadn't seen her in two years, hadn't heard her voice or felt the touch of her hand, but she'd been with him as surely as the air he breathed, the food he ate. She held his heart, and if he'd fooled himself into thinking the connection between them had been severed and that she no longer mattered, he had only to feel his racing heart to know it was a lie. The truth was that she was the only thing that mattered.

Then, in a moment of panic, he wondered if the packet was from someone else, informing him of her death in the line of duty or from some alien disease. Who knew what kind of danger she'd faced since he'd left her? He stared at the packet in fear, worried that it was not from Kathryn but from Tuvok, informing him of her passing. Even though he never saw her, never spoke to her, he doubted that he could continue living if he knew she was gone.

His hand trembled as he pressed his thumb into the unit's release pad, watching in fascination as the container disassembled itself, spilling its single isolinear chip onto the table.


	2. Chapter 2: Assumptions

Disclaimer: See Part 1.

Cruel and Unusual

By mizvoy

Part 2: Assumptions

January 2378 (one month after Voyager's return)

Earth

"Are you saying that Seven's family disowned her?"

Chakotay and Kathryn Janeway sat in Voyager's ready room talking about the previous weekend when he and Seven of Nine had taken their first trip to Sweden to visit her father's family. They had originally scheduled the meeting for first thing Monday morning, but ship's business had forced her to reschedule three times and had ultimately resulted in a few minutes wedged into Tuesday afternoon. Chakotay suspected that she would have postponed this meeting, as well, except that she was supposed to meet with Seven that evening and needed to get his version of what had happened first.

"I think that's pretty much what happened, although I'd call it a mutual disowning." Chakotay shrugged, looking past her shoulder at the spectacular view of Utopia Planetia, where Voyager was located, caught in the claw of a dry dock hanger. "It was like witnessing a shuttle crash—dangerous and terrifying and yet impossible to look away."

Janeway groaned with dismay. "I had no idea it would be such a disaster. Tell me everything. Start at the beginning."

"The beginning?"

His mind snapped back to six weeks earlier when his association with Seven of Nine had begun. He desperately wanted to talk to her about how it had happened, but the few times that he'd brought it up, the captain had been uninterested in hearing any of the details, brushing the whole matter aside as a _fait accompli_. Now, as his mind grappled with the past, the chime of an incoming priority message sounded on the captain's console.

"Damn." She set down her coffee mug and got up to answer the hail with a weariness that spoke of another hectic day and another frantic week. "This shouldn't take long. I swear, Chakotay, I don't have a moment to call my own."

While she was busy at her desk fielding another of a thousand details surrounding their return, Chakotay thought about how different his own life had been, a life not nearly as chaotic as the captain's, yet just as stressful. He'd stayed busy going through his logs and reports and preparing for whatever happened next in his life, but his official duties had been severely curtailed. He hadn't been able to provide her with much help.

Starfleet had relieved the Maquis of duty as soon as the ship entered Earth orbit and had been in the process of assigning them quarters on Earth when Janeway had intervened, insisting that her entire crew remain on board until they had come to terms with their return. Starfleet had grudgingly agreed, unwilling to do anything to tarnish the positive spin Voyager's return was providing them after the disaster of the Dominion War.

She had also insisted that the Maquis remain in an advisory capacity during the debriefing. She pointed out that they would be an invaluable resource for the Starfleet officers who were studying the ship—especially Chakotay and B'Elanna Torres, who were members of her senior staff. Chakotay had been grateful for her loyalty, smiling in secret delight when she'd corrected a reporter who had asked her a question about Voyager's Maquis crew members.

"They're Voyager crew members. Period," she'd snapped, giving the mob of reporters no doubt of her partiality as Admiral Hayes looked on in silence. "Where they served before they arrived on the ship is of no relevance today."

On duty, she was same the confident, powerful captain he'd known for the last seven years, but privately, their friendship had suffered a serious blow. The intimacy and ease of their interaction had evaporated after the admiral's visit, and Chakotay was at a loss as to how to repair it. As time passed, he wondered whether Kathryn was interested in repairing it.

She had learned of his relationship with Seven of Nine from Admiral Janeway, not from him, and his efforts to explain away the oversight had fallen on deaf ears. He argued that the relationship was hardly worth mentioning, consisting of four dates in just the last two weeks of their journey, but she had just smiled, focusing, instead, on what had happened in the admiral's timeline, where he and Seven had become quite serious. She was convinced that they were ideally suited for each other and destined for marriage, and she refused to entertain any other outcome.

He was not so sure. The admiral's arrival had changed their future, and he worried that his fledging connection with the former drone was too weak to survive. It was still just six weeks since his first "surprise" date with Seven, and he wasn't sure that the whole idea had been a mistake from the very beginning. He still remembered the odd call from Seven that first night.

_Voyager was passing through a relatively calm region of space, which meant that the crew had time to do the "nice-to-accomplish" repairs and enjoy some down time for personal interest and off-duty hobbies. The double whammy of Neelix's departure and the gastric adjustment to Chell's cooking had been the biggest challenge they'd faced in over a week. _

_Chakotay was enjoying a quiet evening in his quarters when Seven contacted him. It seemed that Captain Janeway had bowed out of their weekly velocity game, and Seven wondered if he would take her place so that the holodeck reservation wouldn't be wasted. _

_Chakotay was more than willing to play. He had felt restless all day, and the prospect of physical activity appealed to him. Seven would be a worthy challenge, he knew. Janeway was one of the best velocity players on the ship, yet she often had to resort to extra discs in order to defeat Seven. _

_He agreed to the match and quickly joined her on the holodeck. It wasn't until after the match ended that Seven dropped the "first date" bombshell. _

_Exhausted by the extended length and difficulty of the game, he stood in the middle of the holodeck toweling off and enjoying a cold drink before he headed back to quarters for a much-needed shower. They had been discussing the relative value of several velocity tactics when the conversation lagged and Seven suddenly changed the subject. _

_"I've found that Neelix is a better advisor on romantic issues than the doctor," she informed him. _

_The non-sequitur caught him by surprise, and he barely kept from laughing out loud at the dubious quality of advice either of those two individuals might provide. _

_"Neelix?" he croaked, clearing his throat. "You've talked to him?" _

_"Voyager is still within communications range of the Talaxian colony," she answered, looking so earnest that he was glad he'd hidden his true reaction. "When I spoke to him about seeing you socially, Neelix suggested that a physical activity like velocity would make our first date less awkward." _

_For a moment, Chakotay simply stared at her in complete surprise, and then he repeated, "First date?" _

_"Yes, of course." She was abruptly guarded, a blush of embarrassment deepening the ruddy tint that the game's exertion had put in her cheeks. "Our velocity match qualifies as a first date, doesn't it?" _

_She looked so awkward, so vulnerable and charmingly innocent, that he found it impossible to disappoint her by reminding her that he was simply a stand-in for her regular velocity partner. Rubbing his hair with a towel, he shrugged. "I suppose it does." _

_She rewarded him with a brilliant smile and proceeded to ask him to accompany her to a concert in three days' time as "an appropriate activity for date number two." _

_"Date number two, hmm?" He grinned at the playful approach to dating and decided that there couldn't be any harm in playing along. "Why not?" _

That was the beginning, he realized, a simple decision not to hurt Seven's feelings, yet it had grown into something much more than that, a dramatic, if unintentional realignment of his personal life that was turning out to be impossible to modify.

Across the room, Janeway closed down her computer with a huff and sat back in her desk chair, obviously annoyed by whatever had interrupted them. With a sigh, she strode back across the ready room, stopping to pick up her mug and frowning at the coffee that had chilled during her absence. She gave him a wink. "No need to put up with cold coffee now that we have unlimited replicator usage, right?"

"Right," he answered, watching as she refreshed her coffee at the replicator. He thought to himself, Four dates. Two kisses. Yet, in the captain's mind, I am destined to marry Seven of Nine.

She returned to the sofa sipping from one steaming mug and holding a second one out to him. "I got you a refill, too."

"Thanks." He cradled the mug in his hands, letting the steam warm his face.

"So. The trip to Sweden." She relaxed against the sofa cushions and glared in the direction of her desk. "I turned off the computer. We shouldn't be interrupted again."

"We'll see about that," he replied with a wink. His thoughts turned to the awkward meeting with the Hansen clan, wondering how he could describe the way they had scrutinized Seven of Nine as a former Borg and looked down on him as a barely reformed traitor without losing his temper. In a moment of clarity, he realized that his presence had done little to help Seven fit in.

"You should have been the one who accompanied her," he started, reopening an argument they'd had the previous week. "Her family respects and admires you as a Starfleet captain while the look at me as a criminal and a traitor."

"We've already been over this, Chakotay," she bit back, her anger flaring. "You know I could never have gone with her. I worked all weekend. In fact, I barely managed to spend two hours on Sunday afternoon with my own family in Indiana." She leaned forward, rubbing her temples with trembling hands. "I thought she'd be in good hands with your diplomatic experience and natural charm."

He snorted. "The Hansens aren't as open-minded as I expected them to be, and I assure you that my 'natural charm' wasn't enough to overcome their narrow-mindedness."

"Explain."

"What remains of her father's family consists of Federation conservatives who detest both the Borg and the Maquis."

"Her Aunt Irene didn't seem ready to reject her."

"Her Aunt Irene passed away just a few days before we returned."

Janeway's eyes widened. "I had no idea."

Chakotay continued, "Even worse, she was the only remaining relative who remembered Seven or who had warm feelings toward her father, who, as it turns out, was the black sheep of the family."

"Seven didn't tell me any of this. Did she tell you?"

"Apparently, she didn't feel it was significant."

Janeway groaned. "I was counting on her Aunt Irene to help smooth her transition back into the family."

"So was I. Apparently Magnus and Erin Hansen took Seven with them into deep space at the strong objection of most of the rest of the family. Magnus was notorious for doing what he wanted and defying common sense. Irene begged him to leave her in Sweden, but they left without even saying goodbye."

"That's hardly Seven's fault."

"No, and, of course, they know that. But it seems that Seven told them about seeing her father—as a drone—on a Borg cube and did nothing to retrieve him."

"She saw her father?" Janeway sat up in surprise. "She never told me that! And she saw him after we separated her from the collective?"

"Apparently so—but she didn't say when. Just another minor detail she failed to mention to us."

"I suppose they feel as if she should have rescued him?"

"Don't you think she should have at least tried?"

Janeway rubbed her face with her hands and sighed, finally looking up at him with a shrug. "I'd have to know when and where she saw him. It might have been at a time that she had no chance to help him. Dealing with the Borg is more complicated than they know."

"That's what I told them, but that wasn't the only problem. Four members of the family were lost during the Borg attack at Wolf 359, and two others died in battles with the Maquis. You can see that the deck was stacked against us."

"Why didn't she tell us these things? Didn't she know they would affect the way they treated her?" Janeway seemed genuinely confused. "I just don't understand."

"I guess she thought they would be as open-minded as Voyager's crew was."

"Too bad they couldn't set aside their differences long enough to get to know you."

"I wasn't surprised by their reaction. They were just as prejudiced against her as the rest of the Federation is. She hadn't read the letters from her Aunt Irene, nor had she done much research into the family, in spite of your suggestion that she do so."

"I thought you'd make sure she did that."

"I'm not her mentor," he snapped, and then closed his eyes to regain his composure and escape the glare he was sure Janeway was giving him. He put down his mug of tea and gazed out the window. "You've been too busy to see how much she's regressed, Kathryn, or how poorly the public has reacted to her. She isn't as good with strangers as she was with the crew, especially when those strangers bring so much emotional baggage with them."

"Meeting one's relatives could include a lot of emotional baggage, I know that, but I can't be everywhere, Chakotay." She leaned forward and buried her face in her hands, and he remembered how heavy her burden was now that he was no longer able to assist her as consistently as he had before. She was right when she said she had no time to cater to Seven's adjustment, and she wanted him to take care of that task in her stead.

The turnaround in roles was ironic, because Seven had always been a bone of contention between them. He'd initially wanted to jettison her out of the airlock with the rest of the drones, but Janeway had insisted on severing her from the Collective and taking her on as a reclamation project.

In her first years on the ship, Seven had been a thorn in the captain's side and a complication in Chakotay's work. Even so, the gamble had worked out, for Seven had proven to be a valuable member of the crew and had gradually regained much of her humanity, enough for him to look at her as a potential companion.

But that was in the Delta Quadrant, where Kathryn Janeway was out of reach, not here, where she might eventually be willing to explore the smoldering attraction between them—except for his entanglement with Seven.

She looked up at him and smiled, reaching to give his arm a reassuring pat. "It's time for you to become her mentor. I'm too distracted with everything else that's happening to give her the attention she needs. So, you see, it happened just in time."

"What happened 'just in time'?"

"Your relationship with her, Chakotay." She pulled away, growing thoughtful. "I've wondered why the admiral timed her return when she did, and it's occurred to me that she might have known how instrumental you'd be in Seven's adjustment to the Alpha Quadrant."

"Our relationship?" He stared at her in dismay. "It's hardly a done deal, Kathryn. I told you that the admiral arrived just as our fourth date was beginning, and we haven't had much of a chance for any dates since our return."

"Yes, I know that, but the admiral told me how compatible you would be." Janeway sighed and sipped her coffee, waiting for enough time to pass for her to change the subject. "Now, I want more specifics on the family disaster in Sweden. Tell me their names and their professions, and maybe I can find a way to mend the breech."

Chakotay knew better, but he relented and told her everything in great detail--how the family had reacted to Seven's visible implants and her inflexible bearing, how Seven had, in turn, become even more distant and arrogant, and how his efforts to bridge the gap had fallen far short of being adequate.

"I don't think there'll be a resolution of this falling out, Kathryn," he concluded, suddenly tired and discouraged at her refusal to look beyond what the admiral had told her. "You can't say the things they said to each other and just forget them later on."

Janeway shook her head in dismay. "Well, she isn't the only member of the crew who's received a less than favorable reception, nor is she the only one who's basically alone. Your family is gone, too, which makes it nice that you can be there for each other." She gave him an indulgent smile. "It's comforting to know that we'll always have our Voyager family to fall back on, isn't it? I don't know how I'd survive without the deeper friendships and relationships that I've developed along the way."

"I hope I can count on your friendship," he answered, embarrassed at the needy sound in his voice. He'd hoped for so much more from her, and yet her current indifference at his liaison with Seven could only mean that she had never felt more than simple friendship toward him.

"Of course, you can. You and Seven both. Never doubt that." She frowned when her door chime interrupted them. "Who could that be? Enter."

Her newly assigned aide stepped in. "Captain, Admiral Hayes has been trying to reach you and keeps getting an out-of-office reply. Is something wrong with your computer?"

"I turned it off, Lieutenant, hoping for a few undisturbed minutes with the commander." Although she glared at her aide in disappointment, she turned to Chakotay with a wistful sigh. "Chakotay, I'm so sorry, but we need to cut this short. Admiral Hayes has been waiting for an update on the ablative shielding, and I don't think I can put him off any longer. Maybe we can resume our talk later this week? After I get back from Paris?"

"Of course, we'll have lots of time to talk once the debriefings are over," he replied, standing up and following her aide toward the door.

"If I live that long," she chuckled in reply. "Tell Seven I'll call her soon."

He made his way slowly toward his quarters, trying to put a finger on what it was in Janeway's attitude that rankled so much. She had simply put him aside. She had closed a door on their future in a way that she'd never done before, and he wondered if the blame belonged to the admiral's indiscrete revelation or if she had simply never been serious about him.

Whatever the cause, their friendship was more formal and distant than it had been in years, more like it had been before their exile on New Earth when she was still engaged to Mark Johnson and still considered him a "temporary" first officer. Now she thought of him and Seven as a couple, a single entity, the same way that she thought of B'Elanna and Tom or Tuvok and T'Pel, people joined together in a permanent bond. In her mind's eye, they were fated to be married, and she had no intention of doing anything that would change that destiny.

Despair and sorrow washed over him. He was broken-hearted that he was involved with the one person that Janeway considered a part of her family. She would never speak up now, no matter what her true feelings were, and he worried that their friendship would also wither away.

He was surprised to find Seven of Nine waiting for him in his darkened rooms and shocked that she had tears in her eyes.

"What's wrong?" he wondered as he walked up and brushed a tear away with his thumb. "What's happened?"

She gestured at the coffee table laden with the gifts that she'd taken to her family members that weekend. "It would seem that the Hansen's have permanently rejected me."

"Oh, they returned your presents," he observed, feeling just as hurt and resentful as she did. His mind was no longer on his own problems as he sensed how much this rejection had hurt her. "I'm so sorry."

"It would seem that my Voyager 'collective' is all I have left." Another tear coursed down her cheek. "And I have you."

His head snapped up and his eyes locked onto hers.

If Janeway was truly uninterested, what harm could there be in pursuing a connection with Seven of Nine? At least by becoming the husband of her protégé, he could maintain his closeness to the captain, and he would have a beautiful wife in the bargain.

In a moment of weakness, he gave up hope.

"Yes, you have me, Seven." He embraced her, letting her tears fall on his shoulders as he comforted her. "We have each other."


	3. Chapter 3: Surprises

Disclaimer: See Part 1.

Cruel and Unusual Punishment

By mizvoy

Part 3: Surprises

March 2378 (three months after Voyager's return)

Lieutenant Commander Tuvok strode quickly down the halls of Starfleet Command toward the offices of his former captain, Kathryn Janeway. He'd returned just the day before from an extended stay on Vulcan and had just arrived on duty when Janeway requested his presence at a "happy celebration" scheduled to occur in her office right after lunch that afternoon.

For a moment, Tuvok wondered whether her promotion to admiral had come through and that the happy event was a preliminary frocking. However, a quick review of Starfleet's recent personnel actions told him that her promotion had not, as yet, been confirmed. Resigning himself to ignorance, he put the matter out of his conscious thought in favor of more pressing duties, quickly unpacking and storing his belongings and having a quiet meal at his desk.

He was relieved to back on duty. The _fal-tor-voh_ treatment for the neurological imbalance he had developed in the last year of Voyager's exile had been tedious and time-consuming, and the debriefings had continued in his absence. On his return, he discovered that most of Voyager's crew had dispersed to other assignments or had left Starfleet altogether. Those few who remained had family nearby, had been reassigned to duties in the San Francisco area, or had not yet completed their debriefings.

His own initial debriefings had been very short and focused on security issues, which meant that he had spent very little time with his captain before his psychological condition demanded treatment. During his absence, he had often wondered how Janeway had managed during those first weeks of emotional upheaval. She had a bad habit of ignoring her own needs and focusing on others, and Tuvok knew that the time would come when that habit would come back to haunt her. He told himself that he would arrange a personal meeting with her, perhaps lunch the following day, in order to assess her mental and emotional state. 

Now, as he approached her offices at the appointed hour, he was once again curious about the vague nature of the summons. He arrived at the receptionist's desk in her office suite and spied a table inside her office which held a small punch bowl filled with a pink fluid, a fairly elaborate multi-layered cake, and a profusion of flowers on a white linen cloth. There were even a few silver balloons hovering over the corners of the table.

He sighed and presented himself to Janeway's aide.

"Oh, you're here." The officer sitting at one of two desks in the outside office looked up and smiled. "I'm Lieutenant Commander Conroy, Captain Janeway's chief of staff. We've been expecting you." Conroy gestured toward the office door. "Please have a seat inside. We'll get started as soon as she and Commander Chakotay return from their meeting with Admiral Truss."

Tuvok nodded and stepped into the office, surprised to find Seven of Nine waiting there, as well. She was dressed in a lovely pale pink dress and stood at the large window that took up an entire wall. He was glad that she had chosen to cover her skin-tight body suit with more demure clothing. 

"Hello, Seven," he said. "I'm glad to see you."

Seven turned to face him, giving him the slightest nod. "It's good to see you looking so well."

"I assume that you're here for the celebration?"

"I have a central role in it," she answered, her tone only slightly more expressive than Tuvok's had been.

"I see." He clasped his hands behind his back and was about to ask her if she was entrusted with pinning the captain's new rank on her collar when they were interrupted by Commander Conroy.

"According to Admiral Truss' aide, the meeting has ended and the captain and commander are on their way. She wanted me to make sure that Seven was ready."

"I am adequately prepared," the former drone answered.

"It's a big day," Conroy commented, giving Tuvok a wink.

"Indeed," Tuvok answered, still mystified. He turned to Seven, "Would you like to sit down?"

"I prefer to stand, but, please, sit if you would like."

"I believe I will. Although my psychological condition has been resolved, I find that my stamina is not yet up to par. Standing for long periods of time is quite tiring, in fact."

"Then, by all means, have a seat."

Tuvok found a chair and studied the former drone more closely, noticing that she had flowers in her hair and a decorative chain around her neck, unusually formal accessories compared to her usual clothing. He glanced around the empty room before saying, "There are few attendees at this celebration."

"We decided to keep it small and private so that it could take place as quickly as possible. The captain has planned a more public celebration next month at her home in Indiana." 

"I see. Even so, something this momentous happens only once. Family should be here, as well."

Seven frowned. "Family is irrelevant."

Since he had no control over the proceedings, Tuvok dropped the subject, turning instead to recent events. "I've seen little of you since the reception three months ago. I trust that you've adjusted well to living on Earth?" 

Seven turned away to look out the window, and Tuvok realized that he was imposing upon her with his small talk. "As well as could be expected, I suppose. And you? Your treatments were completely successful?"

"Quite successful, thank you. My cousin, Azmal, has been diligent in his efforts to help me, knowing that I need to attend to Voyager's debriefings. After such an extended absence, I feel quite out of touch with the crew."

"Even so, I'm sure you and your family enjoyed having the chance to be together."

"I'm afraid there was little time for family, unfortunately. I look forward to a proper reunion with them once my duties here are complete." He gave her a close look, remembering the rumors of her disastrous reunion with her Swedish relatives and her need for intense counseling as she adjusted to her new "collective." He decided to confront her with the situation, knowing that she would have an emotional distance to what had happened. "Have you managed to resolve your differences with your relatives here on Earth?" 

"We have made a mutual decision not to pursue a close family bond. My experiences are too troubling to them, it seems, and I prefer to associate with individuals who are not unsettled by the fact that I was once a drone."

"Weren't they aware of your Borg history before they met you."

"Yes, but the reality of my appearance and what they call my 'distant' mannerisms disturbed them. They find me very different from any other human they have met."

"Hardly a surprise given your past."

She turned and gave him a level look. "As I said, the decision was mutual, Commander. I'm not at all distressed by our decision to go our separate ways."

"Nonetheless, they are your family, and, as such, cannot be replaced."

"I disagree." She turned away from him again, her back stiff in defiance. "I find that I have little in common with Federation citizens. I am much happier with my Voyager family. Chakotay and Captain Janeway understand and support me better than those individuals ever could." 

Tuvok sighed. "It is, after all, your decision to make." 

"Indeed it is." She paused and tilted her head slightly to listen. "I believe I detect the sound of Chakotay's voice." 

Tuvok turned to the door just as Captain Janeway burst into the room, followed closely by the commander.

"Sorry we're late! But the meeting went on forever." She approached Tuvok with eyes gleaming and gave him a quick hug. "Oh, Tuvok, you're a sight for sore eyes."

"I'm gratified to see you as well."

"Welcome back," Chakotay said as he went to Seven's side and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. "I hope you were able to keep Seven from getting nervous."

Seven seemed embarrassed by the comment. "I'm not nervous."

"Well, I am," Chakotay laughed, giving Tuvok a wink. "I was so anxious to get back here and get this done that I can hardly remember a word anyone said in the meeting."

"Then let's do it," Janeway agreed. She summoned Conroy into the room and began to arrange the participants in a line in front of her desk. "Commander Conroy, if you would stand by Chakotay. And Tuvok, if you would please stand beside Seven of Nine." She gave Tuvok a wink, "I'm afraid Seven won the toss."

"She won a toss?" Tuvok repeated as he made his way to Seven's side. "What does one toss?" 

"A coin. It's my good fortune to have you stand beside me today," Seven explained.

Tuvok simply raised an eyebrow, his confusion deepening.

Janeway lined the four participants in front of her desk and then faced them, making Tuvok wonder which of them would read the promotion order. He glanced around to look for a case that would hold the admiral's pips, only to find everyone's hands empty. In the back of the office, the table that held the small punch bowl and cake stood deserted, waiting for the formalities to end.

Janeway chuckled. "No peeking, Tuvok. You'll have to wait just like the rest of us for cake and punch."

"May I ask what is expected of me?" he asked.

"Why, you're a witness, of course," she smiled, picking up a PADD from her desk. She paused and cleared her throat. "As a Starfleet captain, I occasionally have the happy responsibility to join two people in marriage . . . ." 

Despite his many years of Vulcan training, Tuvok reacted emotionally to the first words of the marriage ceremony. Later, he blamed it on the fact that he was still recovering from his illness and was unable to control the emotional response at such a surprise--Commander Chakotay and Seven of Nine were going to be married. And Kathryn Janeway was going to officiate at the ceremony. For a brief moment, his balance wavered.

"Tuvok, are you all right?" Janeway asked, pausing in mid-sentence when she saw him falter. "You don't look like you're feeling well."

Tuvok swallowed. He'd heard the rumors about the budding relationship between the commander and Seven, of course, but he had been convinced that Voyager's precipitous return to the Alpha Quadrant would bring the new relationship to a sudden end. It had seemed quite fragile when he'd departed for Vulcan, and he'd forgotten about it in the interim.

"I apologize for my dizziness," he stated, feeling a little woozy. "I think I might have stood up too quickly."

Janeway went into action, finding a chair and scooting it behind him. "Sit here, my friend. I didn't think about your condition when I asked you to stand up during the ceremony."

"I agree, Commander," Seven said, looking worried. "There's no requirement for you to be standing." She paused, suddenly unsure of herself and looking to Janeway for confirmation. "Is there?"

"None whatsoever," the captain confirmed, giving the bride a reassuring smile and then studying her Vulcan friend more closely. "The doctor told me that the treatments have been successful and that you're well on your way to normal."

"I'm fine, I assure you. This was just a momentary slip." He took his seat and then nodded at the assembly. "Please resume the ceremony."

Janeway returned to her desk and started over, gradually focusing all of her attention on the bride and groom who stood in front of the desk with huge smiles on their faces. From where he sat, Tuvok was free to study the faces of the participants, and he wondered how much the rest of Voyager's senior staff would have paid to be here. He was certain that Tom Paris would have parted with his favorite pool cue, if not his treasured television, to be in this room at this very moment. In fact, Tuvok looked forward to breaking this news to Tom Paris and the others at the first opportunity. He looked up as the captain came to the end of the rite.

"You may kiss the bride," she told Chakotay, tears in her eyes.

Chakotay stepped forward and gently kissed Seven of Nine on the cheek, pulling away after a chaste moment and smiling at Janeway as if she were part of the marriage instead of just the person officiating it.

Seven also turned to their former commander. "Thanks so much for taking the initiative on this, Captain. I'm not sure I could have convinced Chakotay to marry me without your help."

Stunned, Tuvok couldn't believe his ears. Was it possible that Janeway had helped facilitate this ill-fated pairing? Had she lost her mind? The last odds Tom Paris had put on the Chakotay and Seven staying together had been dismal at best and considered a joke among the crew. He'd heard that Harry had predicted that they would stay together the same time Vulcan entered an ice age.

"Why fight something that is meant to be?" the captain remarked, tears still shimmering in her eyes.

Again, Tuvok was astounded. He had seen her fight against "what was meant to be" between herself and Commander Chakotay for seven long years.

"I'll go start the coffee," Conroy said, stepping toward the decorated table. "It should be ready once you take a few pictures."

"Oh, yes! Thanks for the reminder." Janeway pulled open a drawer of her desk and brought out a camera. "Would you mind, Tuvok?"

"It would be my pleasure," he answered, standing up and taking the camera from her hand. "If the bride and groom would just stand in front of the cake."

He took a half a dozen pictures of them in front of table and then another dozen or so with the view of the sky behind them in the huge windows. He joined them when Janeway proposed a toast to their long and happy life together and nibbled at the sweet cake as they told him about their honeymoon plans.

After the bride and groom left, he and Janeway remained behind in her office and had their first chance to talk in many months.

"My aide will clean up what's left," she told him, retrieving a cup of coffee from the replicator. "Why don't we sit down and talk?" They found comfortable seats on the sofa that looked out into the gardens. "I'm so glad to have you healthy again and back on Earth, Tuvok. Most of the crew has dispersed, leaving just a handful of us here. I was feeling a little lonely."

"I'm gratified to be back, as well, although I seem to have missed a great deal in the interim." He cleared his throat and said, with more than a little trepidation, "I admit to being astonished that this wedding has taken place so soon. I had no idea that these two were dating, much less that they were so serious about each other." 

"It was a recent development, starting just before we found the Borg hub, but it has continued and deepened in the months since we got back. You've missed their courtship because they kept it quiet on Voyager and because you've been on Vulcan since we returned."

"Even so, the courtship was exceedingly brief. At least, that is how it seems to me."

"Perhaps it does." She grew thoughtful. "I suppose that they moved ahead because the admiral informed me that they would marry." She drained the last of the coffee and then turned the mug in her hands. He could hear the resignation in her voice. "Since it was meant to be, why put it off any longer?"

"I beg to differ."

She looked up at him in surprise.

"Captain, nothing which happened in the admiral's timeline is inevitable." He stared at her in sympathy, suspecting that, once again, she was putting aside her own dreams and wishes for the good of members of her crew. "The admiral changed everyone's future with her actions. Just because the commander and Seven were married in her timeline doesn't mean that it's meant to be in this one."

"Oh, how I wanted to believe that." She looked sad, and Tuvok was suddenly sorry that he'd been busy elsewhere in the three months since their ship's return. He should have stayed in touch with her as she faced the strain of the debriefings and the loss of her crew. He might have dissuaded her from her usual habit of forging ahead without regard for her own needs and feelings.

He continued. "I must say that I'm concerned about their haste. I would think that their counselors warned them against making any serious decisions during the first six months of our return. I know mine did."

Janeway shrugged, obviously troubled by his words, yet fighting her own emotions. Placing the mug on the table, she simply brought the subject to a quick conclusion, in typical Janeway fashion.

"What's done is done," she pronounced, giving him a no-nonsense glare. "Tell me about your treatments and about your family. I've been anxious to talk to you, my friend."

Tuvok paused, wanting to insist that the wedding had happened too quickly, on impulse and at her insistence, wanting to warn her that she might live to regret her actions, unless, as he suspected, she regretted them already.

But he could tell that she would tolerate no further comment on the situation, and so he sat back in his seat, templed his fingers, and began a quick review of his time on his home planet.

"My cousin, Azmal, was determined to be the best person to help me," he began. "Our first treatments were quite intense and took place on a daily basis."

Janeway nodded and relaxed, the smile on her face failing to reach her eyes. "I met Azmal once, remember?"

"Indeed, I remember that day quite well." As he told her about his _fal-tor-voh_, he couldn't help but feel that the ceremony he'd just attended had been a serious error, something that he would have helped delay if he had been present.

He hoped he was wrong, but suspected that he wasn't.


	4. Chapter 4: Warnings

Disclaimer: See part 1.

Cruel and Unusual Punishment

By mizvoy

Part 4: Warnings

April 2378 (One month after the C/7 wedding)

"Katie, when you told me to prepare for a wedding reception, I was hoping it would be for your wedding, not someone else's." Gretchen Janeway stood beside her daughter as they watched nearly a hundred people gather around dozens of tables in the sprawling yard of the Janeway family home. It was a glorious spring day with warm sunshine and cool breezes, perfect for an outdoor party. 

"Me?" Kathryn smiled at the thought of it. "Mother, you must be joking."

"Why not you? You always managed to balance a Starfleet career and a private life before. There was Justin, and you were engaged to Mark when Voyager got lost in the Delta Quadrant."

"And look what happened to both of those relationships. I'm destined to be an old maid, Mom. Two perfectly good engagements have been ripped out of my hands, and my poor old heart can't stand losing a third fiancé."

"Who says you'd lose him? Anyway, I can't imagine why you insisted on being alone for seven years."

"What was I to do? I couldn't become involved with one of my subordinates on the ship."

"Well, maybe not, but that's done now. You're home, and you have nothing to keep you from finding someone."

"We've only been home for four months." 

"My point exactly! You've been home long enough to start dating again." 

Kathryn turned to her mother with a look of astonishment. "Did you expect me to step off of the ship and grab the first eligible bachelor I found?"

"Of course not, but you could go out on a date or two. Owen Paris tells me that there are plenty of eligible bachelors interested in spending time with you, but you're 'too busy' to bother."

Kathryn frowned as she recalled several of the men who had approached her since Voyager's return. None of them had appealed to her, at all, and she'd decided that her enforced celibacy had, in some way, become her natural state of being. She wasn't used to dating and really didn't miss it.

"Admiral Paris is right. I have been too busy. And, besides, I'm pretty sure I'm beyond all that."

"Beyond all that? You mean men?" Gretchen laughed, giving her daughter a wicked grin. "Darling, you must be kidding. I've got thirty years on you, and I'm still not 'beyond all that.'"

Kathryn rolled her eyes. "Mother!"

"I need intimacy and affection as much now as I did when I was younger, and I'm sure you do, too." 

"Are you referring," Kathryn whispered, "to your 'friend' Admiral White?"

"Actually, Katie, the nature of my friendship with Keith is none of your business," Gretchen whispered back, giving her daughter a wink. "However, I will admit to having an understanding with the man."

Kathryn grinned. "Well, well."

"Oh, stop, Katie. Your father died when I was still a young woman, not much older than you are now. If I wasn't willing to give up male companionship then, I wonder why you are now." She studied her daughter's face. "You can't just dry up at your age." 

"I'm not drying up, Mother. I'll get around to it sooner or later. Maybe."

"I just want you to be happy, that's all."

"And having a man in my life will make me happy?"

"It's always cheered me up," her mother chuckled with another exaggerated wink.

They sat down on a porch swing and watched as the reception unfolded. It was not really a wedding reception, since Chakotay and Seven had been married for a month and had returned two weeks earlier from their Risan honeymoon, but it allowed the rest of Voyager's crew a chance to celebrate with the couple and get used to the idea of their being together once and for all. 

The older woman spied the newlyweds and sighed, shaking her head. "Such an unlikely match," she commented. "They're so completely different." 

"A study in contrasts," Kathryn agreed. "One with blond hair, blue eyes, and a slender build, the other a combination of dark hair, brown eyes, and a large muscular body." 

"Oh, I wasn't talking about the physical differences, Katie, although there are striking contrasts. I meant their personalities, their values, their interests, their temperament. You name it."

Kathryn blinked and shook her head. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh, come on. I have talked to Chakotay often, and I find him an interesting combination of science and mysticism. I mean, he goes on spirit walks, for God's sake, and talks to an animal spirit guide. He's a spiritual conundrum with dimples, and I think he's much better suited to you than he is to Seven of Nine."

Kathryn stiffened slightly and gave her mother a quick frown. "He's my first officer, Mother."

"I'm aware of his former position, sweetie, but that's all in the past."

"It's too late for us, anyway," Kathryn disagreed. "We let our chance slip by. The Klingons have a saying that describes it: 'Half burned wood resists the fire.'"

"Half burned, hmm? So you admit that there was something smoldering between you two in the past?"

"Not really." She blushed and toyed with the arm of the swing. "Years ago, maybe, but the give and take of command took all the heat out of it. Now, we're each other's best friends."

"Perhaps you are. But that can change, mark my words."

"I will never interfere with his marriage, Mother."

"Oh, I know that. What I meant was that you'll lose the intimacy that you have with him and with Seven, too, now that they're married. Most married couples become each other's best friends."

"To a degree," Kathryn replied, feeling slightly sick at what her mother predicted. "Seven is my protégé, and I have every intention of staying close to her. And Chakotay and I are not only continuing to work on Voyager's debriefings, we're team-teaching a class at the Academy next year. I can't imagine why our relationships would change."

"Because three's a crowd, and you're the odd 'man' out." When Gretchen saw the scowl on her daughter's face, she laughed and added. "Marriage is between two people, unless--." She paused, giving her daughter a closer look. "You aren't attempting a _menage a trois_, are you?"

"It's not like that, Mom." Kathryn could feel her face grow warm with a blush. "I'm best friends with both of them, and that won't change."

"So you say," her mother replied, her eyes troubled as she sought out the bride and groom in the crowd. "Someone is bound to get hurt, and I just don't want it to be you."

"Mother, trust me on this one—no one will be hurt." With those words, Kathryn rose from the swing, descended the stairs, and made her way toward the newlyweds, anxious to end the conversation before her mother went made her lose her temper.

Gretchen Janeway had a way of finding her daughter's most sensitive nerve and then standing on it until Kathryn wanted to scream. All throughout her childhood, she had seen through Kathryn's efforts to hide her feelings and had cut quickly to the heart of whatever troubled her. Her deft touch was still there, but Kathryn was determined to hide the truth from her this time.

When the admiral from the future had told her about Chakotay and Seven's marriage, Kathryn had been shocked and dismayed. She had held on to the faint hope that she and Chakotay would be together when and if Voyager returned, a hope that she would have to forget, if the admiral's smug expression was any indication. It didn't take long for her to confirm that the relationship had already begun and that Seven was the reason for Chakotay's recent unavailability for lunches and dinners.

Once they were home, she had two choices: she could distance herself from both of them or find a way to cope with the situation and stay close friends. Seeing them together as a couple had been difficult at first, but she had managed to maintain her captain's mask while she was in the public eye. It had taken a few weeks for her to see them without a painful wrench in her gut, but she had finally managed to give them genuine smiles and wish them the best without gritting her teeth in the process.

She told herself that she could deny her feelings forever, if she needed to. For seven years, she had used her position as captain to keep her from becoming involved with Chakotay. All she needed was another taboo to keep her from approaching him in the future. She soon realized that his marriage to Seven of Nine would put Chakotay beyond her reach, for she would never commit adultery, nor would she do anything to hurt her former Borg protégé. Knowing that, she could continue to work with him, secure in the knowledge that they would remain friends, very close friends, and nothing more.

Right now, the balance was tenuous, and the last thing she needed was for her mother to confront her with it. And so Kathryn left her standing on the porch and plunged into the celebration. 

Meanwhile, Gretchen Janeway remained on the fringes of the party and watched as her daughter put an arm around Chakotay's and Seven's waists and posed for a picture. With a shake of her head, she murmured, "Oh, Kathryn. No one is blinder than she who refuses to see." 

Later that night, as the party was winding down, Chakotay escorted Seven to the local transport station so that she could beam to Voyager and utilize her alcove for a much-needed regeneration cycle. Once she was gone, he returned to the party to thank the Janeways for their generosity before he returned to his apartment in San Francisco.

He arrived to find that the few guests who remained were dancing to the music of Harry Kim and the Kimtones. Gretchen Janeway was nowhere to be seen, but the captain was dancing with Tom Paris, and so Chakotay looked around for someone to talk to until she was available. He spied an exhausted B'Elanna Torres slowly rocking Miral on the porch swing, and headed in that direction.

"Mind if I join you?" he asked, sitting down in the rocker next to her.

"Please do." She shifted Miral to her other shoulder and then glanced out at the back yard where the dancers slowly turned to a favorite song. "I'd say the Janeways went all out for you two."

"Kathryn did this for Seven, not for me," he disagreed. "She thinks of Seven as a surrogate daughter, especially since the Hansens have decided not to be in the picture."

"I still can't believe they did that. I thought her Aunt Irene would be willing to take her in."

"She was, but she passed away just a few days before Voyager returned. She was the last of the family who was friendly with Seven's parents and remembered meeting her as a child."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"It may still work out. But the initial family meeting was less than happy."

"I understand how that can be." She looked around the yard, noticing for the first time that Seven was gone. "Is Seven regenerating at last? She looked exhausted."

"Yeah, she was worn out. The portable regeneration device that the doctor designed for her really doesn't work as well as the real thing. She used it on our honeymoon, but I think it will be two months before she recovers from that experience."

"It's a shame that she's so tied to it," B'Elanna agreed, giving her friend a sideways look. "Chakotay, I've been waiting a month to ask you a simple question, and I'm thinking there's no time like the present."

He looked at her warily. "Go ahead."

"What in God's name are you thinking, marrying Seven of Nine? Have you lost your mind?" Miral sensed her mother's passionate emotions and began to whimper.

Chakotay gritted his teeth. "She's a beautiful woman, B'Elanna. Not only is she brilliant, she has a disarming sense of humor."

"And she's built like a brick outhouse—with real plumbing in her head." B'Elanna glared at him as she struggled to calm down her baby. "Before you started seeing her, she'd had one date in her life, and he ended up in Sickbay! So, you two have three or four dates and get married." 

"We'd been together for over three months."

"Oh, pardon me. I had no idea it was such a long-term relationship." She took a deep breath as Miral burrowed into her neck. "It's just that when I see a friend making the biggest mistake of his life, I feel compelled to speak up." She patted Miral's back, and the child settled back in for a nap. "Who came up with this half-baked idea? Seven?"

"We got to know each other better in the last few months on Voyager and quietly started seeing each other. Seven approached me and suggested that we date. I didn't see any harm in it."

"You must be kidding. What about the captain?"

"What about her?" 

"Oh, come on." She rolled her eyes. "You knew that your dating Seven would hurt her feelings."

"Actually, I was pretty sure she'd approve."

"And that's why you didn't tell anybody about this until after we were home?" B'Elanna shook her head in dismay and then stood up to pace, jostling Miral gently. "What was her reaction when you broke the news?"

"She already knew. The admiral told her."

"So that's what the captain meant when she said that the admiral blackmailed her." B'Elanna stopped and stared at him. "You didn't see her real reaction, did you? She had time to get used to the idea ahead of time."

Chakotay frowned. "I suppose so."

"And you know perfectly well how tightly she can control her emotions. She can smile and nod her head in approval even though she feels like throwing up."

Chakotay laughed. "Don't tell me you've started believing the rumors about Kathryn and me?"

"Tell me the truth," she demanded, stopping right in front of him. "You love the captain, don't you?"

He paused for a moment, and then gave her a rueful grin. "I admit that I loved her once, but when I finally accepted the fact that she didn't love me in return, I moved on." 

"Didn't love you, or couldn't?" B'Elanna resumed her pacing. "So she finds out that you've moved on, and in her usual, self-sacrificing way, Janeway allows you two to get married."

"Allowed? It was pretty much her idea. She suggested that we might as well get married sooner as later, especially since neither of us has family on Earth. She even took care of all the details."

"Surely she can see what a bad match you two are."

He bit back a caustic reply. "Just because you don't get along with Seven doesn't mean she's a terrible person. She's come a long way in the last year or so."

"And she has a hell of a long way to go, too." She saw the flash of anger in his eye and paused to put Miral in her stroller before she sat down beside him, putting a hand on his arm. "Don't get mad at me, Chakotay. It's just that most of the crew always thought you and Janeway were perfect for each other, and I can't help but wonder if you can be happy with someone else as long as that question remains answered."

Chakotay looked away, but not before B'Elanna saw a glint of unshed tears in his eyes. "I think I have the answer, B'Elanna, don't you? Would she let me marry someone else if she cared?"

"If you'd married anyone but Seven, I'd say no. But, she isn't going to do anything to hurt her precious drone."

"B'Elanna, you're being unfair."

"Am I? I think if you'd been involved with anyone else from the crew, Janeway would have spoken up."

"You're assuming that she loves me."

"Yes, I am." B'Elanna sat back and crossed her arms over her chest. "It seems to me that you're marrying the captain's surrogate daughter as a way to remain as close to her as you were on the ship." 

He started to deny it, and then shook his head. "What if it does? Friendship has always been enough for us."

"On the ship, yes, when you were operating as the command team. But we're home now, and you aren't her first officer any more. Can you really give up hope without knowing for sure how she feels about you?" 

"What choice do I have?" He rubbed his face, suddenly tired. "I admit that I've wondered whether Kathryn and I could make a go of it, but then she told me about my marriage in the other timeline, and I could see that she would never take me seriously again."

"You love the captain so much that you'll marry the drone to stay close to her?"

"You make it sound worse than it is."

"I don't think that's possible." B'Elanna sighed and looked back out at her husband, grateful that they had finally spoken up about their feelings before it was too late. "Well, you've made your choice, so, for God's sake, do whatever it takes to make it work."

"I live up to my promises, B'Elanna."

"I hope so. Seven isn't as invulnerable as everyone thinks she is. She desperately wants to fit in, even more now that we're no longer on the ship, and to be betrayed by the two people she loves most would literally destroy her."

"Are you implying that she's marrying me because she's afraid to be alone?"

"I hope not, but I have to admit that the idea has occurred to me. Her 'collective' on the ship is gone, and her biological family has rejected her. She's seemed terribly depressed about never being able to get rid of the rest of her implants and be like everybody else. What if her marriage fails, too? How much rejection and failure can one drone endure?"

"You have a point." He studied the ring on his finger, turning it round and round. "She complained about the alcove every day on Risa and was still complaining when she left for the ship tonight. But the doctor says it's impossible for her to live without the remaining implants, and she's going to have to accept that." They looked up as Janeway and Paris gestured for them to come to the dance floor. Chakotay pulled B'Elanna's arm through his as they left Miral sleeping soundly on the porch. "It will all work out."

"It had better work out, Chakotay, or someone is going to be hurt. Seriously hurt."

They arrived at the dance floor, where Tom grabbed his wife and swooped her away. For a moment, Janeway and Chakotay stood awkwardly amongst the dancers and then turned to each other with a laugh. Janeway took his arm and led him toward the refreshment table for a glass of punch. 

"You know," Tom whispered into B'Elanna's ear, "I think Chakotay might be getting two birds with one stone by marrying Seven."

"Don't even imply such a thing," she hissed back. Tom laughed and whirled her away, but she kept her eye on the other couple, noticing how they whispered and laughed as they shared their drinks. She remembered a Klingon saying that her mother often quoted about star-crossed lovers: "True love ignored becomes a bloody sword."

She hoped Janeway and Chakotay didn't pay too dearly for ignoring the love they obviously felt for each other.


	5. Chapter 5: Second Thoughts

Disclaimer: See Part 1

Cruel and Unusual Punishment

By mizvoy

Part 5: Second Thoughts

September 2378 (Six months after the C/7 wedding)

Seven of Nine lay on a biobed at Starfleet medical as Voyager's EMH performed the biweekly checkup that her Borg implants required. She barely heard the doctor's banter as she stared at the ceiling tiles, biting back the words of impatience she wanted to shout at him. She reminded herself that he'd done all he could to restore her physical humanity and that she couldn't blame him if there was nothing more to be done.

Since Voyager's return, her resentment of this regular checkup had steadily increased, even though she often arrived at the clinic with blurred vision or other aches and pains that reminded her that these adjustments were a necessity. It had been an irritation on Voyager, but now, surrounded by millions of humans who could live their lives without such limitations, she found herself more impatient with the implants than she'd ever been before.

The doctor, on the other hand, was happier than he'd been in weeks. He had been on assignment to Jupiter station for the last three check-ups and had missed seeing her. He was oblivious to the fact that Seven found his cheery attitude a vexation. 

"So, Seven, are you enjoying married life?" he asked as he scanned her ocular implant. His voice was carefully modulated, almost musical, but Seven found it irksome. "Is it living up to your expectations?"

"No, I don't believe that it is," she complained, taking advantage of their long friendship to voice the truth at last. "Marriage is not at all what I expected it to be." 

"What?" The doctor stepped back and stared at her, taking in the annoyed look in her eye. "Tell me what's wrong."

"I'm unsure if I can properly articulate the source of my discomfort."

"Has Chakotay done something to upset you?"

"Not at all. He's been very patient and kind. He says there is a natural period of adjustment when people marry and that we just have to keep the faith."

"Wise advice, it seems to me. Didn't you anticipate that such a drastic change would require an adjustment period?"

"I didn't expect the adjustment to be so lengthy or so troubling." Seven replied. She gave him a tortured look as she sat up on the biobed, pressing her hand against the exterior portion of her ocular implant.

"I haven't finished the adjustments, Seven."

"I want to talk about this first," she demanded, narrowing her eyes. "I have not expressed my feelings to anyone but Chakotay, and it's occurred to me that he is not an unbiased listener."

The doctor lay the tricorder down on the biobed and nodded, willing to let her express her feelings. "I can see how you would feel that way."

"In these six months, I have realized that my experience with committed personal relationships was extremely limited."

"You were part of Voyager's crew, and that was a large commitment."

"Yes, I became part of the crew, but I made no commitments to one particular individual. Even my relationship with the captain was fraught with disagreement and conflict. I resented the way she seemed to interfere with my decisions and second guess my every move."

"Hmm. And now Chakotay, as your husband, has the right to do just that—interfere with your plans and critique your choices."

"Exactly. The claims that he makes on my person and my time have become very tedious and repetitive." She sighed, rubbing a hand absently over her forehead. "Perhaps it was wrong for me to get married so soon after Voyager's return."

"You're saying that you're unhappy."

"Not unhappy, just confused." She took a moment to collect her thoughts. "Part of the traditional wedding ceremony states that 'the two shall become one,' but I haven't felt that kind of unity with Chakotay. I grow tired of his presence and resent the complications he brings into my life."

"The ceremony refers to a symbolic unity, Seven, not a complete joining like a Borg collective. You'll naturally retain most of your individuality and develop your own circle of friends apart from each other."

"I realize that, Doctor. I didn't understand that he would remain such a stranger to me. I thought we would grow closer."

"In time, you will. You just need to talk about your feelings with him. He's a very wise and understanding person, you know."

"Yes, he is, but even so, there are times when I'm sure he's just saying what he thinks he should say instead of being truthful with me, and I find myself doing the same thing."

"That seems fairly normal to me, Seven, until you become more secure in the marriage. Perhaps Chakotay is right and you should just give everything more time. It's only been six months since the wedding," he tried to sound upbeat. "The bloom is hardly off the rose."

"If I had it to do over, I'd listen to the counselors and delay the wedding."

The EMH put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "You were convinced that the marriage was the right thing to do at the time."

Seven sighed. "When the admiral told me that Chakotay and I were married in the admiral's future, it seemed natural that we would be compatible in this timeline as well."

"Aren't you compatible?" The doctor's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"I wonder if we are, to tell the truth." She gave him a weak smile. "Every time I have tried to talk to him about my misgivings, he almost panics and pressures me to forego any further complaints."

"Have you talked to Admiral Janeway about your doubts?"

Seven shook her head. "She's even less receptive to my complaints than Chakotay is. She keeps telling me that he is a strong ally and an important advisor as I adjust to life on Earth, but I'm unsure how that makes him a good husband."

"Are you saying that the admiral pushed you into the marriage?"

"She encouraged us to formalize our connection before the changes we were experiencing here damaged our relationship. Only afterward did it occur to me to ask whether that marriage was a happy one or not." 

The EMH stepped closer, lowering his voice to say quietly, "So you are unhappy?"

"I'm very unhappy and confused." She stood up and walked to the examination room's window, keeping her back to him to hide the pain in her eyes. "I didn't realize that once we were married our relationship would be the focal point of our interactions with others."

"I don't understand."

"I worked so hard to become an individual, but now I'm just half of a couple. Wherever I go, whatever I do, Chakotay is aware of whom I'm with and what I'm doing or he assumes that he's welcome to accompany me."

"You miss having separate friends?"

She shook her head. "That's not it."

"You resent the control he exerts over your free time?"

"No, he's quite flexible about my schedule."

"You get tired of his company?"

She turned to face him. "I'm not making myself clear. Since our marriage, my relationship with everyone else includes him. He is an assumed constant in my life. When I arrive somewhere, I'm asked where he is, what he's doing, when he's arriving, whether he likes his teaching assignment. On and on. I grow tired of it."

The doctor laughed, relieved that her complaint was such an innocuous one. "It's only natural for the rest of the world to perceive you two as a unit."

"Yes, but I was unaware that marriage would bring about such a dramatic curtailment of my individuality."

"I wish you would talk to the admiral about this again, Seven. I think you just said that you value being an individual more than you do being part of a Collective. She would be pleased."

"I'm not so sure about that, since she recommended this marriage to me. I don't mind being part of a collective, but I dislike the narrow focus of the marriage collective." She turned back to the window. "And I miss having the time and opportunity to discuss these issues with Admiral Janeway."

The doctor crossed his arms and studied his patient's stiff posture. "It isn't that you have too much time alone with Chakotay. It's that you don't have enough time alone with the admiral."

"My access to her is extremely limited." She slumped forward, her despair almost palpable. "I need them both."

"Have you spoken to her about this? Does she know you miss her?"

"I've tried, but she always stops me and says she's unwilling to interfere with my marriage." Seven looked at him over her shoulder. "I seldom have time alone with her, and I miss that very much."

The doctor nodded, beginning to understand. "You miss the special relationship you had on the ship, when Admiral Janeway was helping you regain your humanity."

"Exactly. She tells me that helping me is Chakotay's job now. On Voyager, I had regular times to discuss many issues with the captain when we routinely studied the ship's course or when we played velocity."

"Could it be that change is simply more difficult for you, as someone who has only lived as an individual for a short time?"

"We have all had to adapt, Doctor."

"True, but everyone else has lived and worked in various situations over the years and have learned to cope to their new circumstances." He gave her a sympathetic look. "You have to accept that the admiral will no longer be intimately involved in your life the way she once was. That's true for all of the crew."

"It isn't true for Chakotay. She's still just as involved in his daily life as she was on Voyager."

"That's because they're team-teaching several classes at the Academy."

"They're much more than team teachers, Doctor. Chakotay's connection to the captain hasn't diminished one bit since our marriage, at least not as much as mine has. She's his best friend, and I come in a poor second—to both of them."

The doctor frowned at the tone of jealousy in her voice. "I suppose that two people who have been partners through a situation as daunting as our exile in the DQ might always share a special bond."

"You don't understand."

"I think I'm beginning to. You resent the fact that your marriage has apparently damaged your relationship to the admiral, while Chakotay's relationship with her is unchanged."

Seven studied him and nodded. "That's part of my dissatisfaction."

"When I think about it, you were always close to the captain, closer than Chakotay was in the later years on Voyager."

"Chakotay can never really replace her as my mentor, no matter what she says." Seven studied the back of her prosthetic hand, absently running her fingers across the metal bands. "She was always so willing to listen to me and help me work through the philosophical and ethical questions that everyone else thought were just adolescent tirades. And she was never threatened by my criticisms of her as a role model."

"And you miss that?"

She looked at him, her chin held high. "Yes, I do. I wish I could go to her and discuss my dissatisfactions with my marriage, but I know that she would be uncomfortable if I did." She sighed. "I thought I was ready to begin a more complicated relationship like marriage, but now I'm beginning to think that I have much to learn before I'm truly human enough to be anyone's wife."

"What are you talking about?" the doctor demanded, alarmed by the sadness in her voice. "'Human' enough?"

"I'm obviously confounded by the most basic human needs."

"But as a human yourself, you share those needs."

"Not all of them, at least not to the degree that Chakotay does." She paused, weighing whether she should continue. With a sigh, she said, "For example, I do not share the need to touch another person as part of my expression of affection."

The doctor nodded in sympathy. "Well, of course, there's no touching among the Borg, and so you missed out on that element of your humanity. I can sympathize with that. I learned that I needed to add the 'human' touch to my treatment subroutines in order to provide humans the physical reassurance they need as they recover from illness or injury."

"You're saying that touch has medicinal qualities?"

"For humans, it certainly does. A hand on the shoulder or a pat on the arm can add more to my patients' well-being than I ever thought possible."

"Why? Why isn't it sufficient to say 'You will recover soon' without adding the physical component to the treatment?"

"For humans, Seven, touch conveys a level of emotional support that is in many ways more important than words."

She frowned. "I can see that human touch would help comfort someone who was injured or sick, but why is it so essential to a healthy adult male? Why isn't it enough to hear someone say that she loves him without demanding so much more?"

"What does Chakotay demand of you?" the doctor wondered.

"Dozens of little inconsequential gestures. He insists on holding hands while we're walking, sitting close together on the sofa as we talk, kissing each time we leave for or return from work, hugging for no apparent reason, sleeping in the same bed, and worst of all, frequent copulation." She turned to the doctor, her blue eyes flashing. "I thought the purpose of copulation was the conception of children."

The doctor gave her a pointed look, alarmed by the nature of her complaints. Sexual incompatibility was the cause of many failed marriages, and, for the first time, he worried about the likelihood that her marriage would survive. "Of course, procreation is its functional purpose, but humans derive great pleasure from the act and most of them wish to enjoy doing it quite frequently."

"Hmph." Seven rolled her eyes. "I find little pleasure in the loss of control and the invasion of personal space that copulation involves. It is a retreat toward the animal instincts of the species."

"When your aim of perfection is less animalistic."

"Precisely." 

The EMH sighed and shook his head in dismay. "My experience has shown me that couples who disagree over the physical component of marriage seldom stay together, Seven. Have you talked to Chakotay? Is he willing to work through this with you?"

"He's aware that I have an aversion to intimacy, but seemed to think it was a temporary problem." Seven returned to the diagnostic console where she studied the screen, her back once again turned toward the doctor. "It's been a frequent topic of disagreement between us in the last couple of months. Chakotay apparently expected me to become used to the intimate activities and learn to like them, but the opposite is true--I like them less and less."

"Oh, Seven, this isn't good." The doctor studied the tense stance she'd taken, the way she shielded her face from him. "I know this is difficult for you to talk about, but it needs to be done. Are you still seeing a counselor?"

"Yes. I'm still working with Dr. McCormick."

"Perhaps the two of you should discuss your marital problems with her."

"I'm not sure it will help."

"Do you still love Chakotay?"

"I don't know if I ever loved him, Doctor." She returned to the biobed and sat down, looking like the picture of misery. "I admired him and thought he was a good candidate for a long-term relationship. He was an attentive companion, and I was curious about the feelings that came with his touch. I wanted to experience being kissed and caressed, and Chakotay seemed less threatening than some of the other men on the ship."

"You've allowed this to go far beyond experimentation, Seven. He's your husband, and that gives him the right to expect you to join him willingly in the marriage bed." 

She sighed and lay back down, staring up at the ceiling with troubled eyes. "I've wondered if my implants are part of the problem. Maybe if we aggressively sought a way to remove the rest of them, I might find touching and copulation more pleasurable. I would finally get rid of my alcove and sleep in the same bed with him on a regular basis."

The doctor stood over her, his eyes wide with surprise. "Remove your implants? I don't see how that's possible."

"I've done some research and think there might be a way. I'll send you the data."

"I'll look at your work, of course, but please don't get your hopes up. Unless you've made a significant breakthrough, you'll always need your cortical implant, and the implant will always require the regeneration alcove."

Seven was obviously angered by his negativity. "I am frustrated by this dead end in my recovery, Doctor. I'm unwilling to accept that this is the way I will live the rest of my life!"

"But that doesn't mean you should do something that might put your life in danger. Chakotay wouldn't want you to do anything that would harm you, and Admiral Janeway would have my head on a platter if I encouraged you to take a chance with your life."

"Perhaps." She took a deep breath. "To tell the truth, I've wondered if I will ever be able to make Chakotay happy. Perhaps he should find someone else to meet these physical needs."

"Are you talking about divorce?"

"Not necessarily, although I would be willing to give him his freedom, if he asked me to. I'd be willing to entertain a compromise."

The doctor shook his head. "Traditionally, marriage implies fidelity. I think Chakotay would feel he had betrayed you if he had an extramarital affair."

"Even if that's what I wanted him to do?" 

"I'm afraid so."

Seven of Nine was obviously annoyed. "The exclusivity of marriage confuses me, as well. If this procreative activity is so highly pleasurable, then multiple partners would make sense to me."

"If that were so, Seven, why bother to get married?"

She smiled slightly, "I've asked myself that question a dozen times in recent weeks, Doctor."

"Promise me that you'll talk these issues over with your husband, and look into joint counseling with Dr. McCormick, too."

"As Admiral Janeway has assured me, everything will work out," she replied, closing her eyes. "In the meantime, we need to complete this examination so that I can return to work."

The doctor picked up his tricorder and resumed his adjustment of her ocular implant. However, the happiness he'd felt earlier had given way to anxiety.

"Just don't do anything rash," he chided her. "I worry about you."

He realized later that Seven had made no promises.


	6. Chapter 6: Checkmate

Disclaimer: See Part 1

Cruel and Unusual

By mizvoy

Part 6: Checkmate

December 2379 (first anniversary of Voyager's return)

The Fednews carried the celebration of Voyager's first anniversary on their "Startfleet Update" program on a Saturday evening in the outlying territories. As an example of Starfleet success, Admiral Janeway and her Voyager crew continued to be popular topics on both the news and the celebrity broadcasts.

On Centaurus V, Phoebe Janeway Magee and her family watched in rapt attention as the announcers described and explained what was being shown on the screen. All of them were looking forward to seeing Kathryn Janeway and hearing her voice.

"When are we going to see Aunt Katie?" Six year old Kathy Magee lounged on the floor, her impatience mounting with every passing moment. "This is taking forever."

"Soon enough, honey, just watch," Phoebe said, turning her other daughter, age three, around on her lap so she could watch, too. "See the party, Maddie? See all the pretty balloons and the pretty ladies?"

"Cake?" Maddie asked, remembering her recent birthday.

"Cake and ice cream, too, I imagine," Phoebe laughed.

"I hope Kathryn didn't go to the party alone." Mike Magee sprawled on the sofa where he was eating popcorn while the family dog, Seamus, watched him intently. "She's too hot to spend the rest of her life getting set up for blind dates."

"Why is Aunt Katie hot, Mommy?" Kathy wondered, getting up and snuggling next to her father—and the popcorn.

"Hot means pretty."

"Then why do her dates have to be blind?" She stuffed a handful of popcorn into her mouth as she waited for an answer.

"Blind means she doesn't know them. Now watch for Aunt Katie." Pheobe gave her husband "the look" for confusing the child, and he rolled his eyes in reply.

_"Pictured here is Annika Hansen, who prefers to be known by her Borg designation, Seven of Nine. She's one of two individuals rescued from the Borg and brought back to the Alpha Quadrant by the Voyager crew. Even though she was never actually a member Starfleet, she became a valued member of the crew. The other former drone, Icheb, is now at the top of his class at Starfleet Academy. Seven of Nine works in the cybernetics labs in Oakland, California, and is married to Chakotay, the former Maquis cell leader who served as Voyager's first officer. I don't see Captain Chakotay with her, George. What's the story?" _

_"It's my understanding that Voyager's command team attended a separate reception with the Federation President before the festivities began. They are expected to arrive at the celebration in the President's limousine in the next few minutes." _

"Seven of Nine must be hot, too, right, daddy? She's a blond bombshell with big boobs."

"Kathy!" Phoebe scolded the girl, giving her husband yet another glare. "Where do you hear such things?"

"That's what Grandma Gretchen said about her."

Mike laughed, relieved that he wasn't the one his daughter was parroting, for once. "Well, honey, that's obviously something that Grandma can say, but you shouldn't."

"Hmph." The little girl turned her attention back to the screen. "Everybody laughed when Grandma said it."

The next film clip showed the Federation president and her husband getting out of their limousine, followed by Kathryn Janeway, dressed in a striking blue gown, and Chakotay, in the usual formal Starfleet uniform. The two paused and waited patiently while the president answered a few questions. The camera focused in on Janeway as she smiled and waved at the crowd.

"There she is, Mommy," Kathy cried, pointing at the screen. "See?"

"I see," Phoebe replied, studying the former command team as they resumed their walk toward the building.

"Don't you think it's strange that the president didn't invite Chakotay's wife to the dinner?" Mike asked.

"It was a professional function, I guess." Phoebe watched as Chakotay offered Kathryn his arm and then covered her hand with his in an affectionate gesture, leaning over to whisper something in her ear. "They do make a striking couple, don't you think?"

Mike snorted, knowing better than to risk antagonizing his wife's lifelong sibling rivalry by complimenting her sister. "You know I prefer brunettes to redheads."

"I mean that she has gained weight and doesn't look quite as frazzled as she did a year ago." Phoebe laughed, knowing perfectly well what her husband was doing by refusing to compliment her sister. "And she isn't wearing that awful formal Starfleet tunic, either."

"RHIP, I guess. Now that she's an admiral, the uniform is optional for formal functions."

"What's RHIT mean, Mommy," Kathy wondered, her eyes still glued to the screen.

"RHIP? Rank has its privileges, sweetie. It means that admirals get to break the rules."

The little girl's eyes widened as she turned to look at her parents. "In that case, I want to be an admiral, too!"

"And so it begins," her father laughed, giving his daughter an affectionate hug. "Another Janeway sets her cap for a corner office at Starfleet command."

Later, after the girls were in bed, Phoebe and Mike relaxed on the sofa and watched the news clip a second time.

"An eight minute segment," Mike said, checking the file. "News items about Voyager still carry a punch, even a year later."

"Amazing, isn't it? I think it's because Starfleet wants to exploit it as the first good news in awhile, after all the bad news of the Dominion War."

"Not to mention the curiosity of the public. Kathryn and her crew did something really remarkable to get back in one piece. Are you sorry you didn't go back for the reunion?"

Phoebe shook her head. "I wouldn't have been able to spend much time with Katie. I mean, she wrote me and said that she didn't even get to spend that much time with the crew—because she was dining with the President and rubbing elbows with the high and mighty."

"I bet that was a thrill."

"You know as well as I do that she'd rather have been with her crew. But what can she do? Tell the President no thanks? Anyway, she and Mom are still scheduled to come out for a visit next month, and we'll have lots of time to talk."

"She does look nice in that dress," he said, pulling Phoebe closer. "You'd think she'd be surrounded by men."

"That's the truth. But, Mom says she ignores them—can you imagine?"

Mike slowed down the replay of Janeway and Chakotay as they arrived at the party. He made an appraising sound as they smiled at each other before facing the crowd. "Looking at those two, I can't help but wonder if she's busy elsewhere. There's got to be more than friendship here, Pheebs. They're both glowing."

"Maybe they're drunk?" She laughed and then reached over and paused the replay. "Mom and I always thought there was more to their relationship than Katie let on. When you listen to her messages from the Delta Qudrant, his name comes up too often in both official and personal matters. They must have spent hours together. And then, there's the way she says his name—Cha-ko-tay—with such careful inflection. It's positively breathtaking the way it comes out."

"Yet, when they get home, he's hooked up with Seven of Nine. Did they break up or something?"

She shook her head. "She insists that they were never a couple. You know how she is about protocol. She'd never get involved with a subordinate, not even her first officer."

"She might not get involved, but she can't help it if she falls in love. Look at them, Pheebs, and tell me they aren't in love with each other." He had the computer zoom in on their faces, bringing into focus the warm gleam in their eyes. "Can't you see it?"

"There's something there, all right. But he's married, Mike, to the woman Katie thinks of as a daughter. She'd no more make a pass at him than she would at you."

"True, but there is one big difference: I love my wife more than I love her. I don't think Chakotay can say that."

"Good to know," she laughed, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "But Chakotay is just as ethical as she is. He's married, and that's that. I predict that nothing will ever happen."

"That's a shame." His face lit up as an idea struck him. "I wonder. Your sister isn't the type to get involved in a threesome, is she?"

"Naughty man." Phoebe punched him in the arm as she blushed. "But, would you believe that Mom asked her the same question, right to her face? I would've loved to see her reaction to that."

"Only Gretchen could get away with asking Katie a question like that. What did she say?"

"She was scandalized by the very idea, of course." Phoebe giggled. "Who would have thought that MY mom would dream of something like that?"

"Your mom isn't the innocent she pretends to be, Pheebs." He switched the replay back on. "I think you missed the last minute or two of this segment."

"That must have been when Maddie threw a fit and I took her to bed."

"I want you to see something." They watched the rest of the report, including some shots that brought in other members of the crew. At one point, the camera focused on Chakotay and Seven of Nine standing beside each other. As the commentators went on about what a striking couple they made, Mike pointed out that they were not touching or indicating in any way that the other was there. Just before the camera panned away from them, they glanced at each other briefly, still not making eye contact.

When the screen returned to the reporter outside the building, Mike backtracked and focused on the couple. "What do you think?"

"I don't see much chemistry there."

"Especially compared to the heat he was generating with your sister earlier."

Phoebe grew quiet, studying the faces. "Maybe it was a bad moment. You know, maybe they were tired or just had a disagreement."

"Let's hope so, because, otherwise, they must wonder how they ended up with someone they don't love."

"That would be a sad situation."

"You know it. Especially when someone you do love is so close by."

"That would be a mess, all right. I sure hope nothing like that never happens to us."

He pulled her close. "Not to worry. Once a man goes Janeway, he knows it's the 'only' way."

She groaned at his joke and took the remote out of his hands, shutting off the replay before tossing it onto the coffee table. "I love you, Mikey, in spite of your miserable rhyming skills."

Even as they kissed, she couldn't help but worry about her sister, who seemed to be caught in a terrible situation. If Kathryn had been unlucky as Voyager's captain, she seemed even unluckier with love.


	7. Chapter 7: The Storm

Disclaimer: See Part 1.

Cruel and Unusual Punishment

By mizvoy

Part 7: The Storm

March 2379 (One year after C/7 wedding)

"I thought we might finish before lunch." Janeway sounded triumphant as she and Chakotay entered their students' mid-term grades into the academy computer, effectively ending their duties for the next seven days. An entire week of spring break stretched before them, and Janeway was anxious to do something fun for a change. "I have a great idea. Let's call Seven and have her join us for a celebratory sail at the lake."

"Seven is regenerating," he replied flatly, glancing at the clock. "And as soon as her cycle ends, she's leaving for Jupiter station."

"You mean that she's attending that cybernetic conference after all?" Janeway frowned. "Doesn't she realize that she'll be missing your first wedding anniversary?"

"I reminded her of that." He shrugged, trying to hide his disappointment from her. "She said that celebrating the date of our marriage was irrelevant and suggested that we simply 'commemorate' the occasion next weekend."

"I'm sorry she feels that way, but I can't say that I'm surprised," Janeway replied. She thought back to the informal wedding a year earlier and felt guilty for her part in making it come to pass. "She never has been one for parties."

"No, and she doesn't mince words about it, that's for sure. I don't know why I let it get to me anymore." He seemed so depressed that Janeway was tempted to give him a hug.

Instead, she smiled as an idea occurred to her. "Why don't we go sailing without her? She won't mind, since she's busy with plans of her own, and we can just make a day of it, have a picnic lunch, and arrive back home before dark. If you want, we can even return in time to see her off."

"That won't be necessary," he replied with a sigh. "She won't be expecting me to be there. We had a big argument this morning before I came to work and said our goodbyes then—more or less."

Janeway put a comforting hand on his arm. "She might change her mind. In the meantime, it can't hurt you to take some time off and relax." 

"Sailing on Lake George?" He gave her a skeptical look. "I don't mean to be a pessimist, but isn't it cold in New York this time of year?"

"Usually." She laughed and shook her head. "They're having an unusual heat wave, thanks to the fact that the Breen took out the weather net during the war. There is an ongoing debate between the traditionalists and the modernists over whether to rebuild the weathernet or not."

"Let me guess. The traditionalists want to return to 'real weather'?"

"Exactly. In the meantime, the climate is a little unpredictable. But, even so,there's a heater on the boat that should take the chill off."

"Okay, I'm convinced." He stood up and gave her a dimpled grin. "Let's get going!"

Janeway's face lit up, and she immediately started thinking through her plans for the outing, excited about the chance to spend some leisure time with her best friend. Even though she and Chakotay worked together on a daily basis, they seldom spent their free time together doing something fun without having Seven of Nine in tow. An afternoon alone with him was just what she needed to chase the doldrums away.

"If we take the right kind of lunch, we can eat on the boat," he suggested. "I'll pack the lunch, and you arrange the transport." 

"Deal."

When they arrived at Lake George, they were in too much of a hurry to get out on the water to bother opening up the cabin, which had been shut down for the winter. Instead, they went directly to the dock and prepared the boat for the water.

Chakotay remembered his first visit to the lake the previous year. He had been amazed to find a sleek, modern craft instead of the primitive sailboat in Janeway's holodeck program. The real vessel was the model of modern technology—a motorized sailboat with every bell and whistle known to the twenty-fourth century.

His amazement had been obvious, and Janeway had offered a simple, if logical, explanation. "On the holodeck, there are no surprises and the safeties can be set to prevent injuries. In the real world, anything can happen, and I don't like to take chances."

While she activated the boat's equipment, he loaded their supplies and sifted through the storage bins for pillows, towels, and tableware. Minutes later, they motored out into the middle of the lake where they dropped the drift anchor and made themselves comfortable on the prow of the ship, nibbling sandwiches and vegetables, sipping icy white wine, and relaxing in the unusually warm sunshine. The light breeze cooled the heat of the sun while the waves gently rocked the boat, lulling them into complacency.

By mid-afternoon, Janeway made a quick trip to the head and decided to check on the weather while she was in the cockpit. She studied the weather map and then inched around the cockpit to deliver a less-than-favorable report to her former first officer.

"I checked the weather, and they're saying that this region is in for a Nor'easter later in the day."

He lifted his head from the pillow to look at her. "Nor'easter? Isn't that a pretty powerful storm?"

"It can be, but it's early in the season." She plopped down beside him and placed a pillow against the angle of the windshield. "Plus, the radar shows the low pressure system still pretty far to the south, so we have a few hours before we need to head back to the dock." She reclined on the pillow and closed her eyes, enjoying the chance to doze in the warmth of the sun.

"Good. I'm too full to move at the moment."

The lake was glassy smooth and peaceful. They were far enough out on the lake that all they could hear was the sound of the gentle swells rocking the boat. She wasn't about to cut their afternoon short, for this kind of respite was what she'd dreamed of on those terrible days in the Delta Quadrant—an afternoon relaxing in the sun on Lake George without a care in the world.

After a few moments, Chakotay broke the silence. "Do you think they should rebuild the weathernet?"

"I'm torn about it. For years, it artificially limited the severity of Earth's weather until we've taken the mildness for granted. Letting nature take its course adds an exciting element of chance, don't you think?" She shifted to look at him, shading her eyes from the sun with her hand. "More like old times?"

"I guess so, although many people suffered and died because of severe storms in the 'old times.' I've even heard some people say that the weather is harsher than it used to be before the weathernet was built."

"I've heard that, too, as if the climate is trying to find its balance again." She squinted up at the blue sky. "We probably shouldn't take any chances with this Nor'easter. Instead of tacking back to the port with the sails, we'll use the engines. That way, we can stay out here as long as possible. Agreed?"

"Absolutely. I'm in no hurry to leave," he answered.

"Just relax, then. We worked our tails off this morning grading all those papers, and we deserve some rest and relaxation." 

Their friendly chatter sputtered out and died as they dozed, completely oblivious to the storm that was bearing down on them from the Atlantic Ocean. They were at peace, relaxing in each other's company, when the first drops of cold rain splashed on their faces and reminded them of the weather forecast. When they saw the black clouds bearing down on them, they realized how careless they'd been. 

"Kathryn!" Chakotay sat up as the waves, kicked up by a cold wind, pitched the boat steeply to port and sent the picnic basket and everything else not tied to the boat into the churning water. He grabbed the edge of the deck with one hand and Janeway's arm with the other, managing to keep them from sliding overboard as well.

Janeway gripped his arm as the rain drenched them, pulling herself toward his ear so he could hear her over the rolling thunder. "Either we lost track of time or the nor'easter arrived sooner than they predicted!"

He studied the slate grey clouds that rolled ominously over the hills toward the lake, the wind strengthening as it tossed the boat and sent icy needles of spray against his face. "This is going to get rough."

"I'll go start the engine," she shouted as she grabbed the railing along the edge of the cockpit and made her way aft. "You pull up the drift anchor and take the wheel." 

"Aye, Captain," he replied in acknowledgement, pausing to loop a rope around his hand as he edged toward the prow, glancing back to see Janeway disappear behind the cockpit. As he struggled to pull up the anchor, he saw ominous whitecaps lining up to push them even farther from the shore. It took a herculean effort to pull up the anchor and secure it, but he was relieved to finish the job and hear the comforting sound of the engine come alive.

He had just turned toward the stern when a bolt of lightning snaked out of the clouds and struck the mast, throwing him backward and knocking him senseless with its deafening roar and blinding flash.

When he regained consciousness, he found himself dangling from the side of the boat with his legs in the water and the rope around his wrist keeping him from disappearing into the waves. Cold and still half blind from the lightning, he sent a silent prayer to whoever had installed the boat's safety system and he slowly pulled himself back onto the boat. He felt his way along the edge of the cockpit, drenched and shivering in the wind that threatened to tear his clothes from his body.

He found the conditions inside the cockpit a little less extreme and sagged against the pilot seat as he tried to assess their situation. He was surprised to find the consoles blank and dismayed that the view from the low-set cockpit was so limited. There was a deeply-angled windshield along the front and narrow windows along the side, but none provided a decent view of the weather. He struggled to access the battery power for the controls, his heart was still racing from his brush with death, when Kathryn emerged from the hatch and came forward to join him.

"Were you hurt by the lightning strike?" she asked him.

"Nearly blinded, is all. Were you hurt?"

"I was below deck."

They were both soaked to the skin and shivering with cold. The open back wall of the cockpit did little to protect them from the swirling wind and rain, so Janeway pulled out a couple of rain slickers, donning one and giving the other to Chakotay. The sky was dark and the clouds were so low on the water that they obscured the shoreline completely. Chakotay felt as if his universe had shrunk to a cloudy circle of white-capped water about 25 feet across. He grabbed the wheel and eased the bow into the rows of waves while Janeway fiddled with the GPS access and tried to bring the instrument panel to life. 

"All the instruments are malfunctioning," she shouted to him over the wind, "probably shorted out by the lightning strike." 

"Great. Do we have a compass? It isn't as accurate, but we can steer in the general direction."

"It's out, too." She shook her head. "That lightning strike fried everything. We're going to have to depend on visual cues."

"You must be joking." He gestured at the fog and then turned to her. "Kathryn, there are no visual cues. I can't see ten feet ahead of the boat!"

"Let me think." She opened a compartment and tore thought the contents, finally pulling out a tricorder. "We can use this to scan for the shoreline. If you keep us going at about 145 degrees as shown on this screen, we should eventually find ourselves in the neighborhood of our dock." 

Chakotay straddled the pilot's seat and gripped the wheel with one hand while he took the tricorder in the other. He squinted at the tiny screen in dismay and then glanced at her. "This isn't much help."

"Do the best you can," she ordered, exuding confidence in his ability, just as she always did on the bridge. Unless his bleary eyes were deceiving him, she almost seemed to be enjoying herself. "Watch for the finger of land that's toward the east of the cove where our dock is located. If we come in just west of it, the trees will block the wind. When you feel that change, immediately cut the engine and let the current take us right up to the dock." She stood beside him, one hand firmly gripping his shoulder as she gazed into the clouds. She was excited by the challenge, and Chakotay wondered if all Starfleet captains lost their fear of danger as a matter of course. "You know, Chakotay, the exciting part of sailing is the element of chance."

"If you say so," he replied, giving her a skeptical look.

The normally calm, blue waters of the lake were transformed into a raging monster by wind, rain, and fog. On the small boat, everything that hadn't been tied down disappeared overboard, bobbed awhile in the water, and disappeared. The engine strained as the boat fought against the water that washed into it and a ferocious headwind. Wave after wave washed over the bow and into the boat as Chakotay worked to keep the bow pointed in toward the Janeway cove. Even the sails, which had had been tightly bound to the mast, began to work loose and flap in the wind, adding to the overwhelming noise.

"We're taking on too much water," Janeway shouted, at last, as the ship seemed to settle into the waves. "I'm going below to start the pumps." She paused a minute, and then added, "Remember your question about the weather net? I've changed my mind. They should definitely rebuild it." 

He grinned at her as she went through the galley directly behind him and down a hatch to a narrow space between the lower deck and the bottom of the boat. She had just disappeared when he spied the two life jackets that were stowed beneath the console in front of the copilot's seat. He pulled one out and put it on, shoving the second one into the seat beside him for Kathryn to don as soon as she returned.

Minutes passed as the boat labored on, fighting to stay afloat, but making steady headway toward the shore. He heard a faint sound as the pumps activated and hoped that they would restore some of the buoyancy that the water had stolen from them.

Then, he heard an unusual roaring racket that drowned out everything else, even the rain that pelted against the windshield. He looked up to spy a gray spinning cloud that barreled toward him out of the fog.

"What the hell is that?" he wondered, putting down the tricorder and gripping the wheel with both hands. "Please, not a tornado.

At that moment, Janeway crawled out of the hatch and into the deck, making her way forward to the cockpit when she saw the tip of a tornado through the windshield. It brushed against the waves to port and then swerved toward the boat as if caught by some sort of magnetic force.

She watched in fascination as the tornado caught the top of the mast, twisting the thick beam and snapping it free just three feet above the deck. It fell toward the stern, smashing the roof of the cockpit just as the sail ripped loose and caught the wind, jerking the little boat violently backwards in the water. Janeway was thrown against one of the deck seats, and then she slid across the smooth surface until she smashed against the back railing so hard that she saw stars. Moments later, the mast and its flapping sail came crashing down on top of her with a terrible roar that swallowed up her scream. 

In the cockpit, Chakotay had been thrown violently against the pilot's seat and was now lying beneath it looking up toward rolling clouds now visible through the roof of the cabin, which had been peeled away by the mast. Shaking his head to clear the rain from his eyes, he pulled himself up from the deck and struggled back to the wheel, using an arm to protect his eyes from the driving rain that blew in through the shattered windshield.

He realized in panic that the boat was once again settling in the water, even though the engine and the pumps were still running. Confused, he tried to figure out what the problem was and then realized that the broken mast and sail were trailing behind them in the water, creating enough resistance to keep them from making any headway. He was about to leave the cockpit to cut away the debris when Janeway emerged from under the mast with a laser cutter looped around her wrist.

"I'll cut this loose," she hollered, waving him away. "You keep the boat pointed in the right direction."

He nodded and returned to the helm, surprised that the tricorder had disappeared. With a sinking feeling, he knew that he was steering blind with no instrument to help guide the ship in the right direction. He didn't even know how close they were to the shoreline.

"This is bad," he said to himself, peering into the fog. "This is a disaster."

He glanced back and saw Janeway clinging to the railing at the back of the cabin as she frantically severed the lines that kept the mast attached to the boat. She was almost finished with the task when he realized that the boat would surge forward as soon as the debris was cut free.

"Kathryn!" he shouted, trying to warn her. "Let me know before you cut the mast loose."

"What?" she answered, turning to him just as she severed the last tangled line and let the twisted heap slid off the stern and into the lake.

Finally freed from the drag of the debris, the boat immediately shot forward, throwing Janeway back into the tangled remains of ropes that littered the aft deck and nearly tossing Chakotay out of the cockpit. He somehow managed to hang onto the pilot's seat, wrapping his arms around it for dear life, when through the wispy tendrils of fog, he picked up a smear of green whipping past the boat.

He realized that they had just passed the finger of land to the east of the cove. As if to confirm his suspicions, a strong current caught the boat and, because he hadn't been at the helm to cut power, the boat sped ever faster toward the shore, plowing through the water toward the dock that was directly ahead.

"Brace for impact!" he shouted over his shoulder, hoping Janeway could hear his warning over the uproar of the storm. He shifted the engine to reverse and threw the wheel hard to starboard, even though he knew that his efforts were too little, too late.

Seconds later, the boat drove itself into the dock with a spectacular, splintering crash that was quickly drowned out by the fury of the storm.


	8. Chapter 8: The Crash

Disclaimer: See Part 1.

Cruel and Unusual Punishment

By mizvoy

Part 9: The Crash

March 2379 (moments later)

Chakotay lay face down on the splintered remains of the old wooden dock with pieces of boat debris pressing down on his back and something soft under his head. He groaned and pushed himself up on his elbows, wincing as several chunks of wreckage slid off of his body and splashed into the water.

Beneath his face, he saw that the striped fabric seat cushion and another dark orange pad had cushioned his head, keeping it from sustaining injury when he'd been thrown from the boat. He could feel the dock swaying under him as he shifted his weight, which told him that it had been knocked off of its pilings and was now just a free-floating raft bumping against the shore.

The storm continued to saturate him with rain as he studied the orange object, trying to understand what he was seeing. He shook the rain out of his eyes again and then noticed the black strap that was looped around the seat cushion.

The he knew it was a life jacket, but not his own, which was still fastened securely over his chest. This was the second jacket, the one that he'd crammed into the seat so that Kathryn could put it on as soon as she returned from below deck. The jacket and the seat cushion had somehow landed between his head and the worn, splintered boards of the dock, probably saving his life in the process. He grinned, imagining the quip that Kathryn would make on his good luck.

"How many different ways can a person be saved by a life jacket?" she'd chuckle and then move on to tease him about his ability to crash both boats and shuttles with equal efficiency.

Then his grin faded.

It was Kathryn's life jacket.

Kathryn's. Life. Jacket.

Panic surged through him as he sat up on his knees and looked back toward the dying sailboat. The entire port side had been torn open by the collision, and the vessel was now settling steadily into its watery grave, pushed away from the dock and toward deeper water by the wind that had somehow increased in its ferocity. The deck was drifting with it, slowly inching away from the shore, and he needed to escape as soon as possible or find himself too far from shore. But first, he need to find Kathryn.

He struggled to keep his balance on the shifting surface as he turned on his hands and knees to look behind him. She had been on the aft deck when the boat had crashed--near the stern, tangled in the lines that she'd cut away from the mast. Like him, she would have been probably been thrown clear, unless she was still caught in the debris that littered the deck. In any event, she was behind him, either still on the boat or in the cold water.

"Kathryn," he muttered, grappling to keep his balance on the unstable, tilted dock. He scrabbled around to face in the opposite direction and shouted her name, but he knew that his voice was swallowed up in the fury of the wind. He would have to look for her in person, for she would never hear his voice over the storm's winds.

Still feeling dizzy, he forced himself to think things through a second time. He had last seen her on the smooth surface of the deck behind the cabin. She would have been thrown back when the boat was freed of the mast and sail, maybe completely off of the boat. If so, she was behind him in the cove, perhaps swimming to shore, but, in any event, beyond his ability to help her.

He tried to remember whether he had seen her or had heard her voice after the boat shot forward. He shook his head and decided that he would assume that she was still on the boat when they hit the dock, and probably thrown forward, as he had been, by the force of the collision. Without the good luck of landing on a solid deck cushioned by a life jacket, she might have been knocked unconscious and was probably in the water. He felt physically sick with fear.

"KATHRYN!"

Chakotay crawled to the edge of the shattered dock, hoping to find her still on the boat, entangled in the lines or wreckage, but everything on the deck had been dumped into the water. He peered into the inky waters around him, seeing all sorts of floating and submerged debris spreading slowly away from the accident site, pushed by the wind.

The rain pummeled him as he closed his eyes, imagining the angle of the impact and remembering where he'd been on the dock in relation to his location on the boat. He opened his eyes and followed a parallel line from the stern to the cove, searching through the wisps of fog at a large object that was floating in a tangled web of lines. At first he thought it was a fragment of the shattered cabin roof or the half opened sail, but then he saw a slender arm break the surface, and then a face surrounded by a fan of dark hair.

"Oh, my God. Kathryn!"

Without thinking, he jumped into the middle of the wreckage. Janeway's body was floating in a tangled mass of rope, the left side of her head occasionally dipping below the surface in the gentle undulation of the waves. He worked his way through the wreckage to her side and lifted her head fully above the water, stuffing the life jacket under her shoulder to keep her head from submerging. He noticed that her lips were turning blue with cold and perhaps a lack of oxygen. He couldn't tell if she was breathing, but he felt a faint and erratic pulse in her neck.

"Kathryn," he shook her hard and then began to untangle her body from the web of ropes that held her near the water's surface. He tried not to panic at the alabaster white of her skin, telling himself that her blood had rushed from the surface to protect her vital organs from the cold water, clinging to the hope that she hadn't been deprived of oxygen for long.

He shook her again, shouting to her over the storm, "Kathryn, can you hear me?"

He finally stopped trying to untangle her from the ropes and simply pulled the entire tangle of ropes toward the sandy shore beside the dock. The trees were close enough to protect them from the wind. His teeth were chattering as the cold water and the aftereffects of the crash quickly sapped his strength.

Behind him, he heard the boat creak as it settled deeper into its watery grave. He wondered how much time had passed since the crash, how long the water had been washing over her head and face. She was as limp as a rag doll as he lifted her out of the water and laid her on the sand, nearly panicking when he turned her onto her side and saw water pouring from her nose and mouth.

"Kathryn! Breathe!"

He rolled her onto her back and knelt beside her head. After checking her mouth for obstructions, he breathed air into her lungs and then positioned his hands over her breastbone and performed five compressions before he breathed into her lungs again. Memories of another accident, another near-death experience, made him frantic with fear. He sent up a silent prayer.

"Kathryn! Breathe!"

"Ungggh." She moaned, turning her head and then coughing up more water, her eyes fluttering against the rain that poured down on them. "What . . . happened?"

Chakotay was so relieved that he pulled her into a fierce embrace, tears filling his eyes as he rocked her in his arms, shielding her from the wind and rain.

"Thank God you're all right."

"Did we crash?" she wondered as she burrowed into his warmth, grateful for the protection his body offered her from the icy rain. "Where are we?"

"We hit the dock. I'm afraid the boat's a total loss."

"Were you hurt?" She looked up at him with fear in her eyes. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, but freezing. We need to get out of this wind." As if to prove the validity of his words, a tree near the shore splintered and crashed into the cove, sending a spray of icy water over them.

"I can get us into the cabin," she said, pulling away from him and looking up the bank toward the dark building. "Let's go before we're struck by lightning or crushed by a falling tree."

Chakotay nodded and, together, they untangled her legs from the ropes and struggled to their feet.

* * *

"Regeneration cycle complete."

It was late afternoon in San Francisco when Seven of Nine stepped down from her alcove. When she had begun her regeneration cycle, her plan had been to make use of her alcove, now installed at Starfleet headquarters, in order to minimize her need for the portable regeneration device during her stay at Jupiter station. As she gradually became aware of her surroundings, she gave her alcove a look of revulsion, wishing she could put it aside forever.

Then, as she gathered her belongings, she remembered the argument she and Chakotay had had that morning regarding the timing of her absence. It was unfortunate that her trip coincided with their first wedding anniversary, for Chakotay was disappointed that she put so little importance on the event. She didn't understand why the recurrence of such dates should necessitate a celebration, but she now realized that it was a typical human practice that she should accept and tolerate.

The truth was that the marriage had not brought her the security and happiness she had hoped for a year earlier, and she had come close to telling him that there probably wouldn't be a second anniversary. She had found it impossible to "work things out," as the EMH had suggested, and she was sure that the fault was her own. She did not make Chakotay happy, and she wondered if there was any way she could rectify the problem.

If they had married in the Admiral's timeline, and Seven had begun to wonder if they had, they must have worked through these issues during their courtship, long before they made a commitment to each other. Or perhaps they had reached some sort of agreement over their conflicted feelings for each other, realizing that their choices were limited among the crew. Their courtship would have been much different while living in Voyager's relatively small, insulated world, more unified, less solitary.

She had concluded that they had been mistaken to marry so soon after their return and so early in their relationship, and she was becoming more and more certain that it was a mistake to continue. What steps they should take to terminate the marriage was a matter she needed to discuss with him, and with Admiral Janeway, and sooner rather than later.

She paused and mentally checked her schedule. She could arrive at the conference as late as the next day without missing any important meetings, which meant that she could spend the evening discussing these issues with her husband and begin to sort through the direction their lives should take.

She made an impulsive decision to delay her trip to Jupiter Station, changing her transport destination so that she arrived at Chakotay's quarters at about the same time he usually came home from work.

They were, of course, the quarters that they'd shared since the wedding, yet Seven thought of them as his, since she seldom slept there. As on Voyager, she was tied to her alcove, located in a large, echoing chamber, as her home.

She let herself in and waited for his arrival, trying to think of a way to broach the subject of divorce. When his usual time of return came and went, Seven accessed her communication logs and found a message informing her that he and the admiral had gone to Lake George for a sail "to celebrate the end of their half-semester Academy course."

"Sailing," she muttered with impatience, making a face. "Another frivolous activity if ever I heard of one." Yet, if she was honest with herself, she was also a little hurt that her two mentors had not included her in their outing. "I'll surprise them," she decided. "And I'll discuss this situation with both of them at once."

She returned to the transport station and was in the process of booking the next available beam-out to the east coast when she heard a familiar voice behind her.

"It really is a small world." B'Elanna Torres sat on the bench just inside the door of the facility with a PADD in hand. "You're the second person from Voyager that I've seen today."

"Lieutenant Commander Torres," Seven answered, turning to face her.

"Oh, come on, Seven. Call me B'Elanna." She patted the empty seat beside her. "Come sit and we'll compare notes on married life."

Since the transport booking console was busy, Seven sat down beside her. "I'm afraid that we will not have much in common when it comes to our marriages."

"Why is that?"

"I'm afraid my marriage to Chakotay is not as happy as yours and Tom's."

"I'm sorry to hear that." B'Elanna gave the former drone a sympathetic look and remembered how much she'd worried about this particular pairing. "Maybe you should've waited awhile."

"Perhaps."

"You've been married a year, right?"

"A year tomorrow."

"What are you doing to celebrate?"

"I'm afraid I underestimated the significance of the date and made arrangements to be off-planet on business."

"Usually it's the husband who forgets," B'Elanna chuckled. "Take my advice on this—you really shouldn't set the precedent of overlooking an anniversary. If you forget this year, how will you be able to make him feel guilty for forgetting it as time goes by?"

"Anniversaries are irrelevant."

B'Elanna laughed. "If you say so."

Seven watched as her friend shut down the PADD of engineering schematics and reached for a new one. While the silence was comfortable, Seven was suddenly anxious to discuss her situation with a friend who seemed to be happily married. "I'm afraid that neither of us is happy with our marriage."

B'Elanna looked up at her. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"I don't want to interrupt your work."

"Actually, I could use an interruption about now." B'Elanna shut down the newly-activated PADD and stuffed it into her bag, shifting to face her friend. "Talk to me."

"I think your initial assessment was correct, that Chakotay and I hurried into this marriage without sufficient forethought."

"I always wondered what the hurry was. Many of us thought you might want to start a family right away."

Seven shook her head. "I'm unable to have children."

"I'm sorry; I didn't know," B'Elanna answered, putting a hand on the former drone's shoulder. "Is that a problem between you?"

"Chakotay has not expressed any disappointment about it."

"Well, that's good. So, what was the rush?"

"The Admiral Janeway from the future stated that Chakotay and I were married in her timeline, and so we assumed that we were compatible. Since neither of us had any close family on Earth and were losing our Voyager collective, we decided to go ahead with the ceremony in order to have a 'family.'"

B'Elanna rolled her eyes. "You didn't have to get married to do that. Friends can be just as important, sometimes less complicated, than family. And you do have relatives on Earth."

"I prefer not to associate with my father's family."

"I remember hearing that you'd had a falling out." B'Elanna grew thoughtful. "Where's Chakotay now? If you delay your trip just one day, you could celebrate your anniversary now."

"That occurred to me as well, but he and Admiral Janeway finished their grading and went sailing at Lake George to celebrate."

"So he's out sailing with Janeway on your first wedding anniversary?" B'Elanna shook her head in dismay. "They still spend a lot of time together, don't they?"

"They're teaching a class together."

"Right. And they still have some on-going debriefings from Voyager, too, I bet." At Seven's nod, B'Elanna sat back and studied the woman, letting her imagination run wild, remembering all the rumors and speculation about the command team's intimate friendship. "Curious."

"In what way?"

"Well, marriage usually undermines the couples' previous friendships, not the other way around. I know that Tom's friendship with Harry suffered when we got married. But, Janeway and Chakotay are as close as ever."

"I am not sorry that they have remained close," Seven replied. "I want to be with both of them, and I feel certain that the admiral makes up for my deficiencies with Chakotay."

"Your deficiencies?"

"I'm not human enough for him." Seven gave her a steady gaze. "The admiral supplies that human touch that I lack."

"Not human enough? In what way?"

"In many ways." When it became clear that B'Elanna was waiting for specifics, Seven continued, "I don't often eat, and I dislike his cooking. I prefer not to touch others and avoid even casual contact. I can easily remain awake and working for thirty-six hour stretches without fatigue. When I need rest, I regenerate in my alcove, which means we don't sleep together. I do not have hobbies, like sailing, that we can share and have no interest in developing any. And I find most intimate human activities a waste of time."

B'Elanna raised a brow and wondered if Seven's term "intimate human activity" was sex, but decided that asking her that question in a public location would be an invasion of privacy even to a former drone. "No hobbies? Don't you play velocity?"

"Velocity is physical activity, which is important for one's health."

"You mean unimportant hobbies, then."

"Exactly. Sailing, for example, is a purely inconsequential activity. You go nowhere and do nothing."

"Sailing is a method of relaxation." When Seven scowled, B'Elanna continued, "I discovered that doing activities with Tom, joining him for his hobbies, made our marriage better. You could be a sailor, you know."

"I wasn't invited."

B'Elanna sighed. "Only because they thought you were leaving for your conference, right? I can't imagine that those two would object to your presence at anything they're doing."

Seven looked doubtful. "I had considered surprising them. In fact, I was thinking of transporting to the lake now."

"You're his wife, Seven. You have every right to join them."

"Perhaps I will." She smiled at the engineer, and then reached for her bag. "If you have time, I wonder if you would look at my research into the elimination of my remaining Borg implants."

B'Elanna took the PADD and activated it, scanning quickly over the many pages of research. "I thought the doctor explored that issue already and that you need what's left in order to regulate your cortical node."

"I hope to eliminate all of my implants, including the node."

B'Elanna looked up at her in alarm. "Seven, it's too dangerous to try. I thought you'd accepted the fact that you aren't now and never will be fully human."

"I was reconciled to that fact on Voyager, but I can never feel at home on Earth as long as I have these implants and must regenerate. Icheb has been able to forego regeneration in recent months."

"Because his assimilation was incomplete." B'Elanna studied the PADD in silence, frowning at some of the procedures. "I can see a glimmer of hope here, but don't rush into it, Seven. It looks extensive, and I would want to be sure that the doctor approves every step." She studied the former drone, suddenly feeling sorry for her. "If you're thinking that doing this will in some way solve your marital problems with Chakotay, then you're wrong. He knew the truth about you from the first. You just need to spend more time together, without Janeway underfoot all the time."

"I would never deprive him of her friendship. He needs her more than he does me, and I need her as well."

"That can change." B'Elanna returned the PADD to her. "In fact, it should change. Be honest with Chakotay about your feelings. Work through this together."

"I'll consider your advice."

B'Elanna sat up as her transport was announced, and then gathered her things. She gave her former crewmate one last sympathetic look, realizing that the relationship between Janeway and Chakotay defied definition--more than a friendship, less than a marriage--and yet was a reality that Seven seemed to accept.

"Good luck, Seven, whatever you decide to do. If you need someone to talk to, give me a call."

"Thank you, B'Elanna." Seven watched her friend walk away and considered her advice, glad that her decision to delay her trip and join Chakotay and the admiral had met with her approval.

With a nod, she approached the transport clerk and made arrangements to beam to the Lake George area.

"The weather there is pretty bad," the clerk informed her. "I'll have to beam you to the closest transport station instead of to an exact location."

"That is acceptable," she answered. "I have plenty of time."


	9. Chapter 9: Survival

Disclaimer: See Part 1.

Cruel and Unusual Punishment

By mizvoy

Part 9: Survival

March 2379 (Moments after the end of Part 8)

Chakotay and Janeway toiled up the steep path from the lake, pausing to hold each other up when the wind hit them at near hurricane speed. They were exhausted from exposure and reeling from the injuries they'd gotten when the boat had slammed into the dock. Their bodies were bruised and aching, their heads still swimming with the jarring force of the accident, and their teeth chattering in the cold rain and wind.

Janeway was particularly unsteady on her feet and leaned heavily on Chakotay's shoulder whenever the gusts battered them. While they managed to dodge the larger pieces of debris that blew past them like deadly missiles, wind-driven sand stung their skin, filled their eyes with burning grit, and howled through the trees like malevolent spirits escaping from hell. 

"How long do these Nor'easters last?" Chakotay shouted as he shielded her from a particularly vicious blast of wind.

"I don't know for sure," she shouted back, looking up at him in gratitude and clinging to him to keep her balance. "I can't remember seeing a storm this violent."

"We'll be fine once we get to the cabin," he assured her, finally picking her up in his arms and carrying her for the last ten yards of the steep terrain. The leeward side of the cabin offered them some refuge from the wind, and the porch brought relief from the pouring rain. He studied the cabin's front door as he gently set her down on the wooden floor. "Do you have the code for the entry pad?"

"Entry pad? Are you kidding? There's nothing that modern on a Janeway cabin." She slumped against him and then sank to her knees where several empty flower pots were stacked beside the door. "It's an old-fashioned lock, and there's a key hidden around here somewhere." She looked beneath a small painted clay pot and pulled out a brass key, which she held up to him in triumph. "I knew it!" 

"Tuvok would never approve of such an obvious hiding place," he groaned as he took the key from her and helped her to her feet.

"No, he wouldn't, but he doesn't know the fear my Aunt Martha puts in the hearts of criminals. No one would dare bring her wrath down upon them by breaking into this cabin." 

Chakotay chuckled and slipped the key into the lock, quickly opening the door and stepping aside to let Janeway lead the way. She stepped in and quickly tapped a code into the security panel inside the door to turn off the security alarm. Without thinking, she hit the light switch, but the storm had overloaded the power system. 

"Damn. I should have known that the power net was down. The solar batteries must be drained, too."

"We'll use candles," he answered as he closed the door. "Didn't I see a chimney for a fireplace?"

"Yeah, there's a fireplace in the great room." Janeway peered into the shadowed interior, her vision blurring and her head swimming as a wave of dizziness swept over her. She grabbed his arm. "I'm trying not to throw up."

"Here, let me help you." He put his arm around her and started into the large room that was intermittently illuminated by the storm's lightning. "It feels just as cold in here as it was outside."

"Yeah. We need to get out of these clothes and into something dry, and then we need a fire in the fireplace." 

"Maybe we can find something in the bedrooms."

"There won't be any clothes available," she warned him. "At most there will be a robe or two in the bathroom."

"We'll make do."

She directed him down a short hallway to the back of the house where the two bedrooms were located, a shared bathroom between them. There they found two thick terrycloth robes and warm slippers.

Chakotay handed her a robe. "Start taking off those wet clothes while I get some towels for our hair."

Janeway stripped down to her underwear and quickly dried off, pulling on the robe and slippers while shivering in the frigid air. Chakotay did the same and then tossed them into the shower to be dealt with later, after they were warm.

"Now we need to start a fire in the fireplace." He put an arm around her waist and led her back toward the cavernous great room.

"There's a wood bin in the wall to the left of the hearth," she told him, pulling the robe tight around her. "The Janeways have been trained to leave it stocked for the next visitors." 

"That's good news."

Janeway searched the drawers of the end tables for candles while Chakotay loaded wood into the hearth.

"Don't forget to open the damper," she reminded him as she lit a few candles and positioned them on the mantel.

"Thanks. I would've forgotten." The lever for the damper was easy enough to find, but he was unable to find the starter. "Is that a phaser you're using to light the candles?"

"Just a lighter." She held it out to him. "If you're looking for an automatic starter, you're going to be disappointed. You'll have to stuff paper under the grate." 

"Your family astonishes me," he replied, shaking his head as he found some paper neatly stacked at the far end of the hearth. "A family of Starfleet Admirals that uses locks and keys and starts fires with matches."

"Yeah, we're an unusual bunch, all right."

While he lit the fire, Janeway opened a chest and pulled out several large blankets. By the time the fire was roaring, she'd settled on the sofa with one of the blankets wrapped around her. The light from the fire and the candles added a cozy glow to the room, but the heat had yet to raise the temperature to a more hospitable level.

Chakotay grabbed a blanket and draped it over his shoulders.

"That was a close call, you know?" he muttered as he sat down beside Janeway, only to find her slumped on into a ball, her eyes glazed over with exhaustion. "Kathryn? Are you all right?" 

"Would you listen to the wind?" she whispered, her teeth shattering. "It reminds me of those terrible storms on New Earth."

"You're getting a chill." He picked up a third blanket and pulled her to a standing position. "We need to buddy up if we hope to get warm."

"Okay," she said, too tired to argue. "We should look for something to eat. I'm thinking there might be something in the pantry."

"You rest here." He spread the blanket on the sofa and then helped her lie down on it. "I'll be right back."

"I'm not moving." Kathryn closed her eyes, thinking about how her carelessness had almost cost them their lives. She had impulsively suggested the sailing trip without adequately checking the weather, all because she wanted so much to spend the day with him, and then she had delayed their departure from the lake until it became a matter of life or death. 

Thunder rumbled directly above the cabin, so close that she imagined the roof coming down on their heads and putting them out of their misery. Pulling the blanket over her head, she curled into the fetal position, shivering in spite of the fire that was blazing in the fireplace.

Chakotay reappeared with a tiny first aid kit that he'd found in the bathroom and a basket full of rations from the pantry. He dropped two hyposprays on the end table and then scooted the sofa, Janeway and all, closer to the hearth.

She peeked out from under her blanket. "Oh, that's much warmer. Thanks."

"No problem." He spent a minute or two restocking the fire and then knelt down beside her and opened the medkit, chuckling at the miniature medical tricorder he found inside. "Look at this, would you? It's a museum piece." 

"What are you planning to do with it?"

"Just make sure neither of us has a concussion." He opened the device and aimed it at her. "Hold still."

She watched him, her eyes glittering with tears. "I'm sorry, Chakotay. All of this is my fault. I should have checked the weather more carefully before we left San Francisco, and I should have headed for shore a whole lot sooner."

"We're both at fault." He snapped the device shut with a smile. "Nothing seriously wrong with you that I can see, just a few bruises that should feel better after this analgesic takes effect."

She tilted her head obediently as he gave her the pain-killer, rubbing her neck afterward, even though the hypo didn't hurt. She reached for the tricorder. "Let me return the favor."

Once she was sure his injuries were also minor, she gave him the remaining hypo of painkiller and then looked past him at the basket he'd brought from the kitchen.

"Let me guess. You found something to eat."

"Not much. Just some emergency rations and a couple of bottles of water."

"What? No coffee?" She made a face.

"No coffee, so we're truly roughing it." They laughed and then tore into the ration packs. Chakotay chewed slowly on the nutritional wafers, amazed at how good they tasted when he was hungry, and then took a long drink from a bottle of water. "I'm not complaining about the menu. We're lucky there was anything at all in the pantry."

"Ration pack 5 is not the best, however."

"Better than nothing." He gathered up the trash and stuffed it into the empty basket.

"I hope there are a few more of these," she said, draining her water bottle. "If we have to stay here awhile, we'll be hungry again."

"There's a whole case in the pantry."

"Great. Remind me to bring a few vacuum packs of real food the next time we come sailing."

"Anything but ration pack 5." He piled more logs onto the fire, satisfied only when the flames shot high into the chimney, and then returned to the sofa. "That should keep the fire going for a few hours."

"Sorry this place is so rustic."

"I'm just glad to be dry and out of the weather." He shivered in spite of himself, reaching to pull his blanket around his shoulders.

"You need to lie down beside me. You know quite well that cold weather survival protocols demand that we share body heat."

He nodded and pulled the loose pillows from the back of the sofa and tossed them onto the floor, leaving the seat cushions that were nearly as wide as a single bunk on Voyager. Janeway stood up as he lay down with his back against the back of the sofa and then lay down beside him, spooning her body against his.

They spent a few moments securing their robes and arranging the blankets until, at last, they relaxed against each other's warmth, her back against his chest with the blankets wrapped around them and the fire's warmth toasting their faces.

At first, they were so relieved to be warm and full that they didn't think about the intimacy of their sleeping position. But then, when she felt his burgeoning arousal, she pulled away in embarrassment.

"I'm sorry if you're uncomfortable," she whispered. "I don't know what else we can do."

"It's okay, Kathryn, just an automatic reaction to being so close to a woman. Nothing is going to happen."

"It's not that. I know I can trust you." She didn't say that it was herself she didn't trust. She was painfully aware of his body behind hers, of the fact that her backside was so near his groin and his arm so close to her breasts. She hoped he couldn't feel her heart racing.

"Are you hurting anywhere?" he asked her, his voice rumbling against her back.

She shook her head. "The meds have kicked in, I think. I'm just so very tired. I can hardly keep my eyes open."

"Me, too." A huge crack of thunder shook the cabin as the rain beat against the far wall with increased ferocity. "Let's try to get some sleep. That way, when the storm lets up, we'll be ready to head back to civilization."

"Good idea." She snuggled down, staring at the fire, grateful that the pain killers were making her drowsy—the sooner the better.

The room was quiet except for the sound of the wood snapping and the muffled fury of the storm outside the windows. The stab of desire that had blossomed moments earlier faded, and she was satisfied just to be with him, even if they had crashed the boat and destroyed the dock.

She loved being with him.

To tell the truth, she was in love with him.

Janeway realized, with a start, that her plans had backfired. She had imagined that her love for Chakotay would diminish once he was Seven of Nine's husband. Protocol had been enough to keep her from seducing him on Voyager, and she'd hoped that adultery would be just as big of a deterrent on Earth. Apparently, her future self had been able to reconcile herself to his marriage, and so she'd believed she could do the same.

What she hadn't bargained for was that his unavailability would make him that much more attractive to her, like forbidden fruit.

She felt tears burning in her eyes as she told herself that she had to find a way to let him go, that they should no longer work together if she was this close to succumbing to her desire. She promised herself that once the semester ended, she would take a deep space assignment and start looking seriously for a compatible mate.

"You're still shivering," Chakotay said, interrupting her thoughts and tightening his hold on her. "I thought you'd be warm by now." He sat up and looked down at her, his eyes worried. "I'm afraid you are in pain, but refuse to admit it."

"The shivering is just a nervous reaction to the accident," she lied, surprised at the emotional timbre to her voice. "I nearly got us killed out there. I'm sorry, Chakotay, for screwing everything up."

"Nonsense." He settled back down, tangling their legs together and pulling the blanket up around their shoulders. "This is just another one of those stories we'll entertain the children with in our old age."

"I mean it, Chakotay. I've ruined everything."

"The only thing that's really ruined is the boat. And the dock." 

Reluctantly, she settled into his warmth, keeping her back pressed into his chest. "You saved my life. Again."

"We saved each other's lives," he answered, feeling her relax as they both gradually gave into their exhaustion. "That's what we do, come to each other's rescue."

The storm continued unabated, beating against the snug cabin and reminding them of how good it was to be alive and safe. With a sigh, she drifted off to sleep, her head nestled on his shoulder and her arm over his as he embraced her. 

Chakotay watched the fire, remembering all the times he'd dreamed of the two of them sharing days like this, dreamed of holding Kathryn safe in his arms as the angry forces of the universe struggled and failed to harm her. At times like this, when he was so aware of the bond he felt for her, he felt even more guilty for marrying Seven of Nine. As difficult as his marriage was, it was tolerable as long as he could work and spend time with Kathryn. His greatest fear was that she would take a deep space assignment and deprive him of her constant friendship.

He closed his eyes, sliding down against her sleeping form as fatigue hit him. It had been a long day full of impossible circumstances, and he soon fell asleep, his cheek resting against her damp hair. 

Neither of them thought of contacting Seven of Nine to let her know that they were all right. Neither of them thought about the fact that she might be worried for their safety and anxious to make sure they were unharmed. In their minds, Seven of Nine was gone, on her way to Jupiter Station and the cybernetic conference. 

For that oversight, they would be cruelly punished.


	10. Chapter 10: Suspicions

Disclaimer: See Part 1

Cruel and Unusual

By mizvoy

Part 10: Suspicions

When Seven of Nine beamed into the Lake George transport center, she was stunned at how harsh the weather was. She had spent most of her life in space, living in the controlled environment of a starship or a Borg cube, and had yet to reconcile herself to the wide range of severe storms that regularly scoured Earth's surface.

This was the worst storm she'd seen, however. Rain slashed against the windows, driven by a relentless wind that also bent the trees nearly double and turned gravel and other loose objects into deadly projectiles. She gave the transport operator a perplexed look.

"Is this weather typical for this region and season?" 

"It's a nor'easter, which have plagued the eastern North American coast for centuries," the man answered with a shrug. "They've come back worse than ever since the Breen destroyed the weather net." 

"It is impressive." Seven frowned, suddenly unsure of what she should do next. The wind and rain had rendered impossible her plan to walk the few miles to the Janeway cabin, but she wasn't sure whether public transportation available for her use instead. 

As if reading her mind, the man continued, "I'd suggest getting a room at the lodge next door until tomorrow morning, at least. With luck, the storm will blow over and you can go where you want without risking your life in the process."

"I already have a place to stay," she replied. "I'm joining my husband and our friend at a cabin just north of here. They arrived earlier for an afternoon sail, but I've been unable to contact them."

The man narrowed his eyes suspiciously at her words—her husband and a friend? Could it be that this friend was actually her husband's was lover? He kept his voice non-committal. "Communication's always bad during these big storms. Are they staying at the lodge?"

"There would be no need for that. Our friend, Kathryn Janeway, owns a cabin here, and I feel certain they've taken refuge in it."

"The Janeway place, eh?" he rubbed his chin. He'd been on duty when Janeway and a tall, dark, and handsome man had arrived earlier in the day. From their easy banter and constant teasing, he had assumed that they were romantically involved, and while he might be mistaken, he didn't think so. This wouldn't be the first time he'd seen a husband come to the lake with someone other than his wife. The only difference this time was that the girl friend was older than the wife.

He cleared his throat. "I was working here when they beamed in. You say he's your husband?"

Seven nodded.

"I see." He paused, wondering if this young wife suspected what might "really" be going on between her husband and their friend. He had lived in this vacation spot long enough to tell when a couple was looking for a secret hideaway, and he worried how such a young, innocent-looking wife would react when she interrupted what was probably "going on" at the Janeway cabin. He expected that she would be shocked and angry, and he worried that she might do something rash.

"I don't mean to interfere, ma'am, but it would be best to contact them before you drop in unannounced."

"Waiting for communications to be restored would be anunnecessary delay," she disagreed. "Perhaps I could rent a vehicle and drive to the cabin?"

He gave her a wary look. "Driving in this weather can be tricky for someone who isn't used to it. If you don't mind waiting until my shift ends, I'll drive you to the cabin myself."

"That's very kind, but I don't want to inconvenience you."

"No problem," he insisted, turning back to his console. "My home is in that direction, so the Janeway place isn't really out of my way."

"Very well, if you insist." She was secretly relieved. "Thank you."

While the man worked, Seven took a seat in the waiting area and watched the storm continue its devastation. From the building's bay window, she could see whitecaps on the lake and heavy waves crashing against the shore, sending water spray high into the air. Only a few vehicles crept down the rain-filled roadways, and no pedestrians risked being hit by the debris that flew by at lethal speeds.

Seven turned to the clerk. "I don't understand why my husband would want to go sailing in weather like this."

The man smirked, wondering if the woman's husband had been sailing, at all, but deciding not to plant doubt in her mind just yet. He replied, "You wouldn't think so now, but we were having an unseasonably warm and sunny day until late-afternoon, perfect for a sail. This storm raced in with a speed that caught even the meteorologists by surprise."

"Why is that? Weren't they monitoring the storm?"

"Yes, but the climate hasn't settled down since the weathernet was destroyed."

"I hope Chakotay and the admiral weren't caught out on the lake." She studied the roiling water with concern. "Is there any way we can check?"

"The shore patrol always does a scan of the lake's surface and provides assistance where needed." He leaned on the counter and smiled to reassure her. "And anyway, if they were in distress, it's all over by now."

"I will be relieved to know for sure that they are unharmed."

"Yeah, I bet you will." He winced as a particularly vicious gust of wind shook the building. "People got used to the Nor'easters being less violent, but nowadays, these storms blow in fast and furious, worse than anything any of us ever saw before. Some people think we shouldn't replace the weathernet and let things stay 'natural,' but storms like this make me think we're better off having it."

"I think you are correct."

"For what it's worth, I'm sure your husband or your friend had enough sense to keep track of the weather. Most boats are pretty well equipped these days."

"No doubt you are right."

"I'm sure they sought shelter when the clouds boiled up like they did."

Seven nodded and fell silent as the clerk turned his attention to several groups of disgruntled tourists who were making their way back to their homes. She used this period of solitude to work out the details of the plan that she'd been working on since her talk with B'Elanna earlier in the day. She had been discouraged when her friend had doubted that her research into removing her implants would work and had nearly been overcome with despair. She was convinced that the procedure could work, however, and soon decided to move ahead without any further delay. Knowing that her problems would soon end, one way or another, her mood had brightened.

The plan was quite simple. She would disable the EMH's ethical subroutines so that he would perform the procedure without hesitation, and she would activate a holographic assistant to help him. The most challenging part of the task would be breaking into the appropriate surgical center in San Antonio and completing the process before security noticed her presence or the clinic's staff reported for work. She was confident, however, that she was equal to the task.

Her only remaining uncertainty was the timing. She wondered whether she should wait until after the conference on Jupiter station had ended, or whether she should forego the conference and do it immediately.

She smiled to herself, imagining how pleased Chakotay and the admiral would be when they saw her without her implants, restored to purely human form, free at last of the cumbersome, hateful machines that riddled her body. She decided that she didn't want to wait any longer. Perhaps she should let everyone think she'd gone to the conference while she sneaked away to San Antonio, instead.

"Helloooooo!"

Seven looked up to find the clerk studying her with a perplexed look on his face. "I beg your pardon?"

"I asked if you're sure you want to go out into this storm, but you must've been off gathering wool."

She frowned. "Gathering wool?"

"Daydreaming, then." He gave her a wink.

"I was thinking about the tasks I need to accomplish in the next few days."

"No problem. I was just wondering if you're sure you're ready for the weather?"

"I am not afraid of getting wet, if that's what you mean."

"All right then, my replacement is here and my shift has ended." He handed her a poncho. "You'll need this out there."

"Thank you."

"Let's get going."

The short walk from the building to the parking lot exposed them to the full brunt of the storm. By the time Seven was seated inside the two-person all-terrain flitter, she was soaked to the skin and her hair had been whipped out of its elegant French twist and into a tangle that covered her eyes. She wondered what good the poncho had done, since she was soaked to the skin. 

"By the way, my name's Joe Whitby," the man said as he slammed the door shut and activated the engine. The car rocked slightly in the wind while he checked the gauges and used a towel to dry his hands, face, and hair. "And you are?"

"Annika Hansen," she answered, smoothing her wet hair back from her face and securing it behind her ears. "I'm sorry to get you out in this weather."

"Oh, I had to get out in it to get home, anyway. My cabin is down the lane and around the corner from the Janeway place." He backed out of his parking slot, the wipers working furiously to keep the windshield clear. "I'm going to take my time, though. There's likely to be trees in the road and high water in a few places." 

"I'm in no hurry."

Seven could see that the weather was not conducive to any type of ground transportation. Whitby was careful as he negotiated their way through the flooded streets and took detours around obstacles that filled the roads, including tree limbs, trash receptacles, and anything else that hadn't been tied down.

As he drove, Whitby watched the calm woman next to him with a great deal of curiosity--another wife seeking out a wayward husband. But there was something familiar about this woman, something about the shiny implant over her eye.

He'd ask his wife, when he got home. She teased him about his tendency to gossip about his work, but he found these emotional tangles fascinating, dramatic, and often tragic. Annika Hansen wasn't the first wife he'd seen betrayed by a wayward husband, and she wouldn't be the last, with human nature the way it is. There were some things that simply never changed.

He wondered how she would react. Would she be the type who had long since resigned herself to her husband's habits? If so, she would probably handle the proof of her suspicions pretty well. But if she was one of the innocent ones, the ones who suspected nothing, the she might be upset and emotional. He was curious about the drama that was being played out right before his eyes. Nothing short of another Breen attack could have driven him from accompanying her; he was anxious to find out the truth.

Unbeknownst to him, Seven of Nine would have found his thoughts amusing.

The truth was that she was not an innocent young wife, by any stretch of the imagination. She had spent her formative years in a Borg maturation chamber and her youth as a drone, and she shared memories with thousands of other drones which told her all she needed to know about the vagaries of human relationships. In fact, her attitudes and expectations about marriage itself were far from traditional. She was not so naïve as to believe in an exclusive sexual partnership, nor did she think that total fidelity was normal for human nature.

She was secure in her connection to both Chakotay and the admiral, and wouldn't feel threatened if their friendship evolved into a physical one. In fact, she might actually be relieved to have the Admiral assume the tedious intimate duties of the marriage bed. 

She loved them both and was quite certain that they both loved her—and that they loved each other. They were a family, in her mind, a separate collective. She longed to have an equal bond between all three of them.

She wondered, once again, why physical intimacy reserved just for her and Chakotay? Why couldn't Chakotay and Janeway be intimate with each other? Why couldn't she be intimate with Janeway? Her questions on this matter, addressed to the doctor, to her husband, and to Janeway over the last year had never really been satisfactorily answered. They all replied that marriage implied fidelity, as if that explained everything. It didn't. Seven was unhappy with things the way they were and was determined to bring about a significant change. 

"Most unsatisfactory," she said to herself.

"What?" Whitby asked, her words muffled by the wind that howled around the vehicle. "Is something wrong?" 

"Everything is fine. I was just thinking out loud." 

"Well, this is the time and place for that." Whitby pulled the small vehicle into a narrow lane that ended at the back of the Janeway cabin. To her right, Seven could see the churning surface of the lake and looked for the small dock that the Janeway's used for their boat. However, she saw nothing along the shore and guessed that the dock had been swamped by the wind-driven waves. There was no sign of the boat, however.

"Maybe they put the it in the boathouse," Whitby commented as he saw where she was looking. "I think they must have made it to the cabin, because there's smoke coming from the chimney. That's a good sign."

"Yes, it is." Seven silently pushed the door of the ATV open and stepped into the maelstrom, holding her hair out of her face with one hand and protecting her eyes from the blowing sand particles with the other. The smoke and a flickering light in the windows were the cabin's only signs of human habitation. Slamming the door, she circled the car and fought her way up the walkway toward the cabin's front porch. Whitby followed her at a discreet distance, curious to observe what was about to happen.

The porch protected them from the worst of the wind. After a brief pause to restrain her hair, Seven opened the unlocked front door and stepped into the foyer; Whitby was right behind her.

The cabin was cool and dim. All they could hear was the sound of the storm's wind and rain as it swirled around the building. The entire left wall of the great room consisted of a stone fireplace, and they could see that the dying flames were responsible for the low illumination as well as a couple of candles that burned low on the mantel.

She took another step into the room and was about to call out a hello when she noticed that the sofa had been pulled close to the fire and that several of its cushions tossed onto the floor behind it. With another couple of steps, she saw a man and woman cuddled together on the sofa--Chakotay and Kathryn Janeway, fast asleep in each other's arms.

Seven came to an abrupt stop, and, with an audible gasp, stared at the sight before her. In a moment of clarity, she understood what it was she had been missing in her life, what she sought from these two people who meant so much to her. She felt no jealousy toward them, only acceptance. In fact, she experienced an odd sense of satisfaction as the shadow of a memory from her childhood washed over her.

_Although the small ship Raven had been the Hansen family's residence for nearly a year, Annika, age five, did not think of it as home and was not always happy with her life there. She spent long hours alone while her parents pursued their research, and she had sensed in them a growing concern about the strange beings that they studied. _

_"I want to go home," she told them every few weeks. "I'm tired of being on the ship." _

_"This is home," her mother assured her. "Wherever we are is home, Annika, as long as we're together." _

_During their waking hours, when her parents were with her, Annika managed to repress her loneliness, caught up in the excitement that radiated from her parents. She loved watching her father work and was thrilled when he talked to her about it, listening with rapt attention, hanging on his every word. She took comfort from their tranquil reassurances and felt secure in their calm confidence. _

_It was during the night that her demons assaulted her. She woke up from a familiar nightmare, the day after her father arrived from an extended stay on a Borg cube, hiding from the drones in a maturation chamber with fifty-two neonatal drones. Her mother had been nearly frantic with fear, and Annika had been deeply affected by her mother's repressed emotions. That experience made this dream particularly disturbing, and so she crawled out of bed, seeking company and comfort. _

_She was surprised to find the working area of the ship empty. Normally, one of her parents remained awake while the other rested. Curious, she crept through the strangely silent deck toward her parents' sleeping cubicle on the far side of the ship. She reached the door and opened it without bothering to use the chime, and so she'd caught them unawares. Of course, she knew that they shared a bed and had even awakened them on many mornings when they'd slept in. But this time, perhaps because of Magnus' close call on the cube, everything seemed different. _

_This time they were sleeping while in each other's embrace, intimately intertwined as if afraid of being pulled apart. Annika could feel the peaceful love radiating from them and surrounding her, including her without question, and she had wanted nothing more than to join them, to nestle into their arms and experience the security, the sense of family, that made her otherwise dreary existence worthwhile. _

_Without a moment's hesitation, she placed a hand on her father's shoulder, and he'd turned and pulled her into the warmth of the bed, snuggling her between them while her mother kissed her hair and pulled her head close. She'd drifted off to a dreamless sleep, sheltered in the security of family, blissful in the happiness of family. Loved. Cherished. _

She realized, with a moment of clarity, that her feelings toward these two people were the same feelings she once felt for her parents. For a moment, she considered crawling onto the sofa with them and settling down between them like child. She might have done so except that she was so aware of Joe Whitby, who stood right behind her, his eyes wide with surprise. 

"Too bad," Whitby whispered, putting a hand on her shoulder. "I was afraid of this."

"Afraid of what?" Seven whispered back, frowning in confusion, her heart still brimming with love for her surrogate parents.

"I was afraid we'd find them shacking up," he gave her shoulder a sympathetic squeeze. "Should we wake them up?"

Seven turned to face him, wondering what his quaint term "shacking up" meant and wanting nothing more than to have him disappear and leave them alone.

Then she realized that she could use the situation to her advantage. Since the sleeping couple was unaware of her presence, she could leave at once and go to San Antonio without having to explain why she had to leave so soon. She could undergo the procedure that night, and, with any luck, return the next day and surprise them.

"We'll let them sleep," she pronounced, moving toward the door. "I have somewhere I must go."

Whitby nodded and followed Seven out of the door, closing it quietly behind him. They stood on the porch, confronted once again by the raging storm.

"I would be very grateful if you could return me to the transport station."

"Whatever you want, Annika." He hurried through the wind to the ATV, feeling sorry for the woman and marveling at her calm composure when faced with her husband's unfaithfulness. In the relative quiet of the car's interior, he said, "I imagine you have things to do."

"I'm going to do something I should have done long ago, something that will make everything all right."

"More power to you." Whitby powered up the vehicle and headed back toward the village in silence.

Chakotay and Janeway slept on, blissfully unaware of the firestorm that was about to engulf them.


	11. Chapter 11: Repercussions

Disclaimer: See Part 1.

Cruel and Unusual Punishment

By mizvoy

Part 11: Repercussions

March 2379 (the next day)

The search for Chakotay began immediately after Seven of Nine was found dead on the operating table in the cybernetics lab in San Antonio. Voyager's EMH, whose ethical subroutines had been altered by his patient, declared her dead and then calmly called the authorities, reporting her demise without so much as a catch in his voice.

"I warned her that this procedure had less than a twenty-five percent chance of success," he told the security team that burst into the treatment bay twelve minutes after her demise, "but she insisted that we go ahead. I don't think she cared if she lost her life in the process."

Just over a year had passed since their return, which meant that any news about the Voyager crew received Federation-wide attention. Add to that fact the scent of scandal that surrounded any "suspected suicide," and the press was sure to make this the lead item on every broadcast. But first, the next of kin, in this case Chakotay, had to be notified.

A reporter who spent his day lingering around the security desk in San Antonio just happened to hear the call come in from Voyager's EMH. He was anxious to scoop the rest of the news corps and quite disgusted when his initial posting could only say that a member of Voyager's crew had been found dead in a San Antonio cybernetic laboratory. That was more than enough, however, for the underground network was buzzing with rumors about the probable identity of the deceased. When Fednews showed Starfleet personnel walking up to the homes of Seven's relatives later that day, there was little left to say. Right or wrong, most of the public had deduced who had died long before her husband had been located and informed.

Janeway and Chakotay had not intended to be gone except for a few hours, and so had left without telling anyone of their destination--except Seven of Nine. She had mentioned their location to B'Elanna Torres, but the authorities knew nothing of their chance conversation in the waiting room of the transport station. And, in any event, the nor'easter had made communications impossible in the Lake George area, which meant that some of the more scurrilous reporters had an equal chance to track Chakotay down before Starfleet found him.

By the time the sun rose on the east coast of North America, Fednews was running the following leading story on every news channel in the Federation—"Voyager Crew Member a Suspected Suicide—Husband AWOL."

The Voyager crew mobilized. When B'Elanna was informed of what had happened, she suspected that Seven had gone ahead with her ill-conceived plan to remove her remaining implants. She made several attempts to reach Janeway at her office, her home, and finally the cabin at Lake George. When all three efforts failed, she contacted Tuvok, at Starfleet security, and let him know what Seven had told her of Chakotay's whereabouts the previous day.

"It was Seven who died, wasn't it?" she asked the Vulcan, who answered with the usual Security doublespeak, confirming her suspicions. "What a waste."

Meanwhile, in the dark, cold cabin at Lake George, Janeway and Chakotay slowly awakened. The fire had burned down to charcoal, leaving the large room icy cold and lit only by the weak early morning light that filtered through broken clouds. Embarrassed by the intimacy of their sleeping arrangements, they quickly pulled away from each other.

"Are you all right?" Chakotay asked as Janeway disentangled herself from the blanket and stood up to stretch.

"I have a headache the size of a shuttlecraft and a few aches and pains, but nothing serious. How are you?"

"About the same. I'll feel better once I'm up and moving."

She glanced out the window at the thin cloud cover. "I don't know if we're between bands of storms or if the system has moved on. Once we get the emergency system online, it won't take long to have enough power for the replicator--unless you'd prefer another ration pack?"

"No, thanks. Nor do I want to be around while you're suffering from coffee withdrawal. I've seen you in that condition." Chakotay laughed at her scowl and stood up, folding the blanket as he studied the hearth. "First, I think we need warmth. I'll get the fire going again."

"I'm making a quick trip to the bathroom," Janeway called as she disappeared dawn the hallway. "See if we can get a weather report on the emergency receiver."

Chakotay worked at rebuilding the fire and then finished replacing the sofa cushions, leaving the sofa close to the hearth so they could return with breakfast and warm up while they ate.

"Success," Janeway said as she passed through the room. "I got the solar panels online and even managed to find a battery pack with residual power for the kitchen. I left it in there for you. I'll see about the emergency receiver."

"Aye, Captain." He made a quick trip to the bathroom and then headed for the kitchen, thinking that they should put their clothes in the 'fresher or replicate something to replace them.

He spent the next few minutes getting the battery pack installed so that the replicator would work, and then he made a large pot of coffee and a platter of fruit and croissants. He could hear the emergency communication unit come online a few moments later, just before Janeway returned to the room.

"The worst of the weather has passed," she reported as she sat down and poured them both a large mug of coffee. "We can replicate new clothes and hike to the transport station as soon as we finish eating."

"I can't believe we were caught so unprepared for the bad weather." 

"I guess after the dangers of the Delta Quadrant, we can't imagine that anything really bad can happen here," Janeway concluded. "We learned our lesson the hard way."'

They heard the Fednews chime announcing "breaking" news, growing quiet to listen. The reporter's voice was barely discernable as she said, "Whether it was Voyager's former drone, Seven of Nine, who was found at the facility has yet to be announced, nor has it been officially labeled a suicide. Rumor has it that Voyager's Emergency Medical Hologram reported the death to authorities. Of course, none of this will be confirmed until the next of kin is notified."

Janeway and Chakotay stared at each other in astonishment, too shocked to speak. They were still trying to come to terms with what they'd heard when they heard someone pounding on the front door.

"Hello? Anyone home?" The shadows of their visitors blocked out the light coming in from the porch. One man cupped his hands around his eyes and peered through the window. "Hello? This is Starfleet security!"

Janeway tore her eyes from Chakotay's face and pulled her robe tighter around her. "Come in. The door isn't locked."

Now that they had her permission, the two officers opened the door and stepped into the foyer, their eyes wide with shock when they saw that the occupants were dressed in robes and slippers.

"Commander Chakotay?"

"Yes."

"I'm Lieutenant Kirk Maguire from Starfleet Security. It's my unhappy duty to inform you that your wife, Annika Hansen, died last night at the Starfleet Cybernetic Research Lab in San Antonio, Texas."

"Seven of Nine," Chakotay corrected him, his face ghostly pale. "Her name is Seven of Nine."

At that moment, two other strangers appeared at the front door. One was Joe Whitby, the man who had been on duty when they'd arrived the previous day. The other was obviously a reporter of some sort.

"I told you," Whitby announced as the reported snapped pictures. "This is that poor woman's husband. He's been here since yesterday, shacked up with that woman."

Chakotay pushed past the Starfleet officers and ripped the holoimager out of the reporter's hands, smashing it onto the floor with a furious roar. 

"Shacking up," Whitby repeated, joining the reporter as they made a hasty retreat out of the house and into the drizzle. "And his wife was such a nice lady." 

Three days later

The apartment was lit only by the reflected light of the moon, so Janeway waited just inside the door for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. Chakotay was there--he had allowed her to enter--but he hadn't answered her hello and his exact location was impossible to determine in the poor light. To her knowledge, he hadn't talked to anyone nor had he left these rooms since he had beamed out of the Lake George cabin. He'd decided to seclude himself rather than accompany Janeway to San Antonio.

She detected the shadowy figure of a man lying on a sofa that had been situated in front of the huge windows that overlooked the Montana forest. The floor behind the sofa was littered with a variety of empty liquor bottles, broken plates and glasses. From the smell, there was also half-eaten food in the debris.

She took a deep breath and steeled herself for a confrontation. The last three days had been difficult for her, almost beyond endurance. She had spent most of it fighting to dispel the scandal surrounding Seven's death, defusing the speculation about why she and Chakotay were found alone in a secluded cabin, and defending Chakotay for his assault on the reporter and for his subsequent disappearance.

Chakotay should have been with her, should have added his voice to hers, but he had retreated instead. She'd made up a dozen excuses for his absence, explaining that the shock of Seven's death was just too difficult to bear, that he was grieving in private, that he would come forward soon.

The truth was that no one knew for sure where he'd gone or whether he'd return at all. She'd finally tracked him to this apartment in the mountains of Montana by having Tuvok use his contacts in Starfleet security to trace his steps. This cabin apparently belonged to a friend he'd known in his academy days.

"You've been here all this time?" she asked, waiting a moment for him to reply before she began to pick her way through the trash. "I thought you were going to meet me in San Antonio."

"You said we shouldn't be seen together." His voice was rusty, as if he hadn't spoken in days. "You said that we had to avoid each other if we were going to convince the public that our being together was a result of the weather and not a romantic rendezvous."

"We can be together in groups." She reached the back of the sofa and looked down at him. He was wearing filthy jeans and a stained flannel shirt; judging from the stubble on his chin, he hadn't shaved in days. Wrinkling her nose, she could tell that he hadn't showered, either. "I just meant that we shouldn't be seen alone together."

"We're alone together now," he pointed out. "Aren't you afraid your lily-white reputation will be sullied?"

"Stop it." She reined in her temper and took a calming breath. "You were her husband. You need to step up and take care of things."

"Why?" He finally glanced at her for a brief moment before looking away. "I didn't take care of things while she was alive, and you're probably doing a better job than I would, anyway."

"You're making it easier for people to believe that she committed suicide because--." She paused, unwilling to speculate as to a reason.

"Because her husband didn't love her enough."

"Of course you loved her."

"Because at the moment when she needed him the most, he was with another woman."

"That wasn't how it was, and you know it." She huffed a breath. "You're just saying these things because you feel guilty."

"And you don't?" He sat up and turned to face her. "Not even a little bit?"

"I had no idea that she would try something this dangerous, and neither did you. After all, she was the one who added the protocols to the EMH's program to protect him from being 'hijacked' like this. Remember?"

"The easier to remove them, my dear." He turned away and slouched against the back of the sofa. "Go away."

"Chakotay," she said, violating the silence as she circled the sofa and stood in front of him, "there has to be some kind of memorial."

He stared at her, taking in the immaculate hair and makeup, the perfectly pressed and fitted uniform, thinking how good she was at carrying on, no matter what. He took a breath and then shook his head. "You do it."

"I can't do it, Chakotay! You were her husband!"

"Not really. Not the way I should have been. She knew I didn't love her the way I should love my wife, and that's why she died."

Janeway was so shocked by his words that she was speechless. She sat down on the window sill and stared at him. "What are you talking about?"

"You don't need to pretend to be surprised," he continued, glaring at her. "She knew it, the crew knew it, and you had to know it, too."

"What is this thing that we all know?" she demanded, totally confused.

"You can ask me that?" He laughed, but there was no mirth in the sound. "You know how much I love you."

She inhaled sharply. "We were fellow officer and good friends, Chakotay. Nothing more. And if the crew, or Seven of Nine, saw our friendship for more than what it is, then I can't help that."

Chakotay shook his head sadly. "Your powers of denial amaze me, Kathryn."

"I prefer to deal with reality, not a pipe dream." She struggled to remain in control of her emotions. "Seven died because she wanted to be completely free of her Borg implants, to truly regain her humanity."

"Why would she take such a chance with her life?" He watched her squirm. "Why, except that she felt rejected and alone. She thought by being more human, she could save our marriage." He laughed again. "What a joke."

"Save your marriage?"

"She was about to ask me for a divorce."

"Impossible."

"Open your eyes, Kathryn. It was suicide, pure and simple. You know it and I know it."

"I don't know it." She crossed her arms over her chest and narrowed her eyes at him. "We both know that she struggled with depression because of her stalled progress to eliminate the rest of her implants. She was disappointed that she couldn't have children. She felt trapped by her continuing need for the regeneration chamber. If anything, it was my decision to take her from the Borg that inevitably led to her death."

"The noble Kathryn Janeway takes all things on her shoulders," he chuckled, taking another swig from a bottle he'd stashed in the cushion. "You never pledged to cherish her. You never took an oath to forsake all others, not the way I did. She trusted me to be faithful, Kathryn."

"When were you unfaithful?"

"Oh, Kathryn." He just smiled at her.

"And, anyway, she trusted me first. She tried to leave Voyager several times, but I always tracked her down and forced her to stay."

Chakotay wasn't listening, his eyes were fixed on the stars out the window. "I bet she died for the same reason in the admiral's timeline, too. Because I didn't love her the way she deserved--with all of my heart."

"The admiral said it was an injury that she sustained during an away mission," she corrected him. "It was an accident."

"Unless she took a deadly risk like she did now," he muttered. "Maybe the admiral didn't change her future after all--a suicide then and a suicide now."

"You say this was a suicide, but how can you know? She herself told B'Elanna that it was a calculated risk. She told the EMH that."

"The EMH." Chakotay shook his head. "Now there's the guy to feel sorry for. He loved her more than her husband did, and yet he literally brought about her demise."

Janeway buried her face in her hands at his words. The EMH was devastated over Seven's demise, grieving over his complicity in the procedure that had killed the woman he loved. Once his ethical subroutines had been restored, Janeway had spent hours with him, assuring him that something would be done to keep anyone else from tampering with his program again. But there was nothing anyone could do to turn back the clock, and she worried that he would descend into a feedback loop as problematical as the one that had nearly destroyed him in the Delta Quadrant.

She looked up in surprise, realizing that Chakotay was doing exactly that—that he was caught in a feedback loop of guilt from which he had yet to find a solution. She needed to do something to change his thinking or he would sink into a depression.

"Seven just wanted to be human."

"She wanted to be loved." Chakotay sat up and rubbed his eyes. "And that's why she committed suicide. I know it for a fact."

"How do you know it for a fact?" She stood up straight. "What have you found out?"

"She left me a message." His eyes were tortured as he slid his hand between the cushions and pulled out a PADD, holding it out to her. "Read it for yourself."

Janeway's hand trembled as she activated the screen. It was text only, and her eyes quickly scanned it.

_"I'm sorry we disagreed about our first anniversary. I regret that such matters that are so meaningful to you are trivial to me. This is just an example of what is wrong between us, Chakotay. I believe that my nature is unsuitable for marriage. I care deeply for both you and the admiral and understand that she is the one you should be with. Perhaps, once the doctor completes this procedure and I am fully human, the three of this can work things out to a satisfactory conclusion." _

The room was silent as Janeway scanned the message a second and third time. She looked up at him, confused. "I'm the one you should be with?"

"I told you she knew how much I loved you."

Tears stung Janeway's eyes. "I don't understand."

"She committed suicide because I didn't love her, Kathryn. How long can you keep denying it?" his temper was raging. "How many different ways do I have to say the truth before it sinks into your thick skull?"

Her head snapped up to look at him, furious at his derisive tone. "You think this means she wanted to die? She says she wants the three of us to work things out."

"She wrote that before she saw us 'shacking up' in the cabin, to use the transport clerk's colorful vocabulary."

"But he misinterpreted what they saw!"

"Did he?"

She threw her hands out in dismay. "You know he did! We're not romantically involved, and we never have been."

"No, that's quite true. We've never acted on our feelings for each other, but does that really matter in the long run? Even Seven of Nine knew that we loved each other more than we loved her."

"That isn't what she said, Chakotay. She doesn't say that you don't love her!"

"She saw us sleeping together at the cabin, and what did she do next? She immediately took a risk that was sure would end her life. Can't you see that it was an act of desperation?" He stood up, towering over her. "As far as I'm concerned, she committed suicide, and you and I are guilty of driving her to it."

Janeway was rooted to the spot, unable to move as Chakotay turned and walked away. She tried to imagine what Seven might have thought when she'd seen them together in the cabin, wishing for the thousandth time that they'd been awake when she'd arrived instead of fast asleep on the sofa.

"We have nothing to be ashamed of," she insisted at last. "If she'd only waited long enough to talk to us, we would have explained what happened."

"She didn't need an explanation, Kathryn. She already knew the truth."

"But she didn't know the truth—she jumped to conclusions, just as that transport clerk did. You should come with me and tell the press the truth, tell them that what I've said all along is true." She stood alone, peering into the darkened bedroom, waiting for him to return.

He came to the doorway, trembling with remorse and self-hatred. "Do you really think anyone believes the truth, Kathryn? They see what they want to see, and they believe what they want to believe, no matter what you and I say. And, anyway, the only person who needs to hear the truth is dead." He stood there his fists clenched. "You were right, Kathryn. We can never be alone together again, not even as friends."

Janeway rubbed her forehead, her heart aching. When she looked up, he'd disappeared into the bedroom.

"Chakotay, no matter what anyone believes, Seven deserves to have a memorial service. You need to come out of seclusion and take care of that."

"You do it," came his voice from the other room. "I wasn't there for her while she lived, so it would be wrong for me to play the wounded husband now that she's dead."

"Chakotay, please."

"That's all I have to say to you, Kathryn. Now, get the hell out of here and leave me alone."

"Chakotay--."

"Don't make me throw you out the door!"

"I'll be back," she replied as she placed the PADD on the arm of the sofa and walked carefully through the rubbish, looking back as she reached the door. "I'll come back and we'll talk this through."

The next day, when she and B'Elanna returned to bring him with them to San Francisco, they found a cleaning team working hard to clean the carpet for the next occupant.

Chakotay had disappeared and this time had been careful to leave no trace of his destination.


	12. Chapter 12: Flight

Of Disclaimer: See Part 1.

Cruel and Unusual Punishment

By mizvoy

Part 12: Flight

May 2379 (two months later)

Chakotay sat alone at the bar of the BQT Company's assignment center sipping a tepid beer and listening to the argument going on at the pool table behind him. BQT was the largest transport company in the Federation, occupying an entire level of the Crossroads Space Station situated on the boundary of the Alpha and Beta Quadrants, right in the heart of Federation space.

Since the Dominion War had ended, the demand for qualified pilots and engineers had been so high that BQT hired anyone who was qualified, doing no more than a cursory background check and even allowing applicants to use aliases, if they so desired. Their policies appealed to a man like Chakotay, who wanted nothing more than to remain outside of the mainstream of the Federation.

"Everybody knows that the Dominion War was the best thing that ever happened to the transport fleet," a garrulous engineer shouted, pausing to chalk his cue after sinking the fourth striped ball in a row. "These days are almost as wide open as the boom times of the early Federation."

"Hell of a note, cashing in on a war that killed billions of people," his opponent, a younger engineer, argued. "It just doesn't seem right to me."

"I never said it was right the war happened, laddie. I just said it was damned good for business."

"You sound like a Ferengi."

"That's almost a compliment," the older man answered, calling and sinking the eight ball with a style that Tom Paris would have been proud of.

Chakotay smiled at the banter and turned his attention to the Fednews report scrolling across the large video screen behind the bar. Apparently, some new piece of Voyager's technology had been successfully integrated into a Starfleet ship. The reporter went on and on about the upgrade, but Chakotay was only mildly interested until Admiral Kathryn Janeway appeared on the screen. Surprised to see her, he sat up to pay closer attention, wishing the sound was loud enough for him to hear her voice.

"She hasn't changed much, has she?"

Chakotay glanced over his shoulder to see Noah Lessing approach the bar and then sit on the stool beside him. Ignoring the reference to their former captain, he cut right to the chase, his voice gruff. "It's about time you showed up. What did you find out?"

"BQT needs experienced pilots, all right. I thought the personnel director would have kittens when I showed him your qualifications, but I'm warning you that there's nothing as boring as piloting a supply ship in this region of space." He handed Chakotay the chip that carried his "real" personal data.

"I'm not worried about being bored. When do I start?"

"They said to show up first thing in the morning. There's a transport heading out to Starbase 315 that needs one more pilot. You applied just in time."

"Let me buy you a beer."

Lessing was quiet as the bartender delivered the brew and deleted the credits from Chakotay's account. He took a long drink from the mug and set it down with a resounding thud. "There's nothing like a cold beer to quench a thirst."

"I really appreciate your help in landing this job, Noah."

"Hey, it's the least I can do. I owe you my life, after all."

Chakotay scowled, remembering with obvious distaste the life-and-death struggle Voyager had waged against the Equinox and it's "fallen" captain. Janeway had tried to force Lessing into cooperating with her by threatening to let the nucleogenic beings attack him, but Chakotay had intervened before Lessing could be injured. Because he'd short-circuited her plans, Chakotay preferred to think that he hadn't saved the man's life and that Janeway would have backed down.

"Whatever the reason for your help, Noah, I appreciate it."

They sat in silence for a few moments. Chakotay glanced at Lessing out of the corner of his eye, perfectly aware of the unasked question that hovered between them. Lessing wanted to know why he was here, looking for work so far from Starfleet and the rest of Voyager's crew. He counted on the unspoken pact between "drop outs" to keep the man from asking him the question.

Finally, Lessing took a long pull on his beer. "I heard about Seven of Nine's death and I want you to know that I'm really sorry."

Chakotay closed his eyes and struggled to keep from smiling at Lessing's discomfort. He knew quite well that his disappearance must be a mystery that most of the crew was struggling to solve. He decided to be polite and accept the man's condolences. "Thanks, Noah, but I'd rather not talk about it."

"No problem. Most of us who work for BQT have a few topics we'd just as soon ignore. I just wanted to let you know I was sorry she died."

"Yeah." Chakotay nodded and drained his beer, spending a long minute staring at the empty mug before he shoved it away and stood up. "First thing in the morning?"

"Be there no later than 0600. Report to the assignment desk and ask for Marlowe Jamieson."

He put a hand on Lessing's shoulder. "Keep this favor quiet, and we'll call it even between us, okay?"

"Sure, you bet. I told Marlowe to expect a man named Ramon Caldera."

"That's me." Chakotay smiled, thanked him again, and left the building, heading for the hostel where he'd secured a tiny, inexpensive room until he found work.

Starbase 315 was deep in the Beta Quadrant, a long journey on a lumbering transport ship. He had only committed to a one-way trip, planning to leave BQT at SB315 and look for a new assignment that would take him even farther from Earth. Farther from her.

It was late, so he hastily packed the few items he had with him, showered, and then lay down on the narrow bunk, staring up at the ceiling until he finally gave up on sleeping, crawled back out of bed, and turned on the Fednews digest. It didn't take him long to find the news article about the Voyager upgrades. He played Janeway's interview through three times, taking in every word she uttered, every gesture and expression, until he was sure the five-minute clip was burned into his memory. Then, he crawled back into bed, his heart heavy.

Seeing and hearing her voice and Noah's words of sympathy words had reopened a festering sore and reminded him of his failure to live up to his responsibilities. A better man would have made the arrangements for Seven's memorial service, he knew that now, but he had been overwhelmed by a blind, suffocating guilt that still dogged his every breath—but not the obvious guilt.

He was sorry, but not overly burdened by Seven's early death. No, his guilt was for something that Janeway had simply refused to understand or even accept as possible.

He'd tried to explain, but she had still been in denial, had still been focused on proving their innocence instead of mapping out the extent of their culpability. He was unwilling to lie to himself any longer. He'd seen the truth, and nothing in the universe could erase that truth from his mind. His grief was not over losing his wife, but over losing Kathryn.

As he had stood beside Kathryn on that fateful day in the cabin, clad in a robe and slippers, he had known at once that their friendly collaboration was at an end. Seven's death had torn Kathryn from him, and he had taken his rage out on the reporter's camera because it was the first thing within reach. He could still hear the irrepressible click of the reporter's camera and the scornful look on the transporter clerk's face.

There was a scandal taking place, all right, but for Chakotay, it had nothing to do with having committed adultery. It was that he had lost Kathryn forever. With instant clarity, he saw that the whispers that surrounded this innocent event would eventually destroy the intimacy of the bond he shared with her. They would never again be as close as they had been in the past without bringing condemnation and judgment down on their heads. Their intimate friendship would not continue; or, more accurately, Kathryn could not continue to be his friend.

Her first words to him in private had proven it to him. The Starfleet officers, having done their duty, left them in the cabin to pick up the pieces of their lives.

Kathryn had turned to him at once, already thinking past the initial shock of Seven's death.

"We shouldn't be seen together, Chakotay, and we especially shouldn't be seen alone together. We should do everything we can to convince the public that we are and always have been nothing more than friends."

Even now, he could hear the panic and anxiety in her voice as she took the first step toward ending their friendship. She didn't see it as the end as yet, but Chakotay understood exactly what was happening.

How could he tell Kathryn the monstrous truth? How could he admit that he grieved more over losing her friendship than he could ever grieve over his wife's death? How could he be so cold, so insensitive, so dishonorable and indecent to love another woman more than he did his wife?

The thought of continuing his life without Kathryn as a significant part of it was impossible to imagine. He couldn't be constantly reminded of her, as he knew he would be, and not be part of her life. It would be torture to see her at reunions and celebrations, to hear about her life from mutual friends, to watch reports about her career, or to run into her at Starfleet Headquarters and not be her friend. He would live in constant agony at what he had lost.

As hard as it was to leave, he had to start a new life as far away from her as he could go. When she was hundreds of light years away, he would be forced to live without her, to make a new life. He had no other choice.

His refusal to give her up when Voyager returned had led to his disastrous marriage and eventually to his wife's death. As penance for the damage his selfishness had wrought, he would give her up now. He would walk away and never see her again.

He looked out the filthy window of the hostel and wondered how long it would be before Kathryn tracked him down. He wondered if he would have the courage to send her away.

Time would tell.

"That's the ship, Admiral," Captain Powak said as the boxy looking transport vessel came into focus on the view screen. "Not much to look at, is it?"

"Form follows function," Kathryn Janeway answered, frowning at the vessel's ugliness even though she appreciated its structure. "Those boxy cargo units are easily moved from one ship to another."

"They play hell with a warp field, though," Powak answered, heaving a sigh. "Can you imagine taking six months to get to Starbase 315?"

Everyone on the bridge groaned at the prospect of such a lumbering journey, but Janeway's thoughts were no longer focused on the conversation as she stared at the ship, imagining Chakotay somewhere inside.

She had pulled every string and called in every debt owed in order to be given the use of a Starfleet vessel for what could only be described as a personal mission. The crew accepting this as a training exercise, but Powak knew better. He had enough experience in diplomacy to turn a blind eye to Janeway's ulterior motive. She owed him for that, and she was in the debt of any number of others, as well.

"Let me know when the inspection team is ready to board the transport," she said, walking across the bridge toward the turbo lift. "I intend to go along with them."

"Aye, Admiral," Powak replied as several members of the bridge crew looked at each other in surprise.

Janeway escaped to her tiny office on deck two as Captain Powak opened communications and ordered the transport to a stop for a surprise cargo inspection. She didn't know whether Chakotay might be on the bridge, and she wanted to see the surprise on his face when she confronted him.

It had been a long two months since Seven's funeral, and Janeway had spent the last month of it on the Sargasso Sea. Their mission, transport control, was a thinly veiled search for contraband (namely Chakotay).

She stood at her viewport, watching the BQT vessel as the Sargasso Sea steadily approached it, grateful that her diligence had paid off and that Starfleet had let her use the ship for her personal project. Soon, she would be beaming aboard that ugly ship. Soon, she would see Chakotay.

With her heart pounding, she tried to imagine what she would say to him, how she would confront him about what he had done and failed to do. She continued to pace, wiping her clammy palms on her trousers, as she imagined one greeting after another.

She muttered several options under her breath, "'Do you have any idea how much trouble you've caused?'; 'Did you really think you could hide from me?'; 'Where the hell have you been?'"

She stopped in her tracks and listened in as Captain Powak worked out the procedure they would follow in performing the surprise inspection for contraband. She could hear the irritation in the transport captain's voice when he replied, for it took a great deal of energy to get that huge cargo ship moving and even more to bring it to a quick stop. A few moments later, Powak informed her that the inspection team would assemble in transporter room one in ten minutes.

Janeway walked into the transporter room right on time. The team's banter came to a stop and the away-team leader stared at her in disbelief. "Admiral?"

"You're in charge, Lieutenant," she reassured him. "I have business to attend to elsewhere on the BQT ship."

Now all business, the team took their places on the pads without another word.

They beamed into a huge, tightly-packed cargo bay. Captain Jamieson had been ready to plow into the team for their needless interruption of his journey when he spied an admiral and thought better of it.

"Welcome to BQT Ship Number 810, Admiral," he said smoothly. "I'm Marlowe Jamieson, master of the ship."

"Captain Jamieson," she said, shaking his hand. "I'm Kathryn Janeway, and this is Lieutenant Conners, who is in charge of the inspection team."

"Lieutenant," Jamieson said, turning to greet him, "this is George L'Nard, who is my chief of cargo. He will assist you in your inspection." He watched them exchange preliminary information and then turned to Janeway. "Are you here to monitor the inspection, Admiral?"

"Actually, no. I was hoping to speak to one of your pilots--Ramon Caldera." She watched the captain's eyes darken and imagined a black mark appearing by Chakotay's name on the crew manifest.

"Caldera?" He glanced at a young worker who was standing nearby, waiting to be given something to do. "Is he on duty?"

"No, sir. Halstead is at the helm this shift."

"Then find out where Caldera is and take the admiral to him."

"Yes, sir." He scurried over to a console.

Jamieson turned back to Janeway. "If you need any other assistance, please let me know."

Janeway thanked him and then followed the crewman out of the cargo bay and up a long series of ladders.

"The cargo holds are external to the drive section," the young man explained. "Once we're in the primary hull, we can use the turbo lift to get to the officers' quarters."

"That's fine," she answered, trying to hide how out of breath she was. "I'll just skip my physical training today."

Janeway didn't often tour non-Starfleet ships, and so she kept her eyes open as they wound through the passageways. It was well-maintained, but space and weight were carefully controlled. The passageways were narrower, the overheads lower, and the lighting darker than what she was used to. She was curious to see how small the officer's quarters would be.

"This is the pilot's suite." He stopped in front of a narrow door.

"Suite?" she said, surprised. "They share?"

"Only the captain and first mate have private quarters, ma'am."

"I see."

"Will there be anything else, ma'am?"

She sent him on his way and reached for the entry chime, pulling back when the door opened and a human male very nearly knocked her down as he rushed into the passageway.

"Pardon me," he said, grabbing her by the shoulders to keep her from falling backward. "I didn't know you were here."

She looked up into friendly blue eyes and smiled. "No damage done."

"If you're looking for Ramon, I think he's asleep in his bunk. He just got off a twelve-hour shift."

"Is it all right if I just go in?"

"Sure. His alcove is the one on the right."

"Thanks." She watched the man trot down the passageway and then peered into the suite.

The door revealed a narrow hallway. On one side of it, there was a single door, slightly ajar, that opened onto the shared bath facilities, while on the other side there were three doors, each labeled with a name—closets or storage, no doubt. She walked through the hallway into a shared lounge area that included a replicator, a table and chairs, a couple of recliners with a video screen, and a fairly large desk. The whole common area was less than half the size of her dining room on Voyager.

Along the far wall were three sleeping alcoves, each with a tiny viewport. Her eyes studied the alcove to the right. Beside the door and stretching to the far wall was a bunk, with a tiny chair at the far end. Beneath the bunk was storage area, really a low dresser with four deep drawers. A curtain could be pulled across the doorway for a modicum of privacy.

"My closet is bigger," she muttered, stepping all the way into the lounge and making a mental promise never to sign onto a BQT transport.

Although the curtain on the far right alcove was partially closed, Janeway could see that someone was stretched out on the bunk.

For a moment, she simply stared at the figure, her heart pounding. She'd missed him terribly over the last eight weeks, especially as she dealt with Seven's death and the constant torment of public opinion and the press. She'd worked so hard to find him that she hadn't stopped to think what it was she wanted to say to him.

At first, she'd been furious with him for disappearing, but that had soon turned into confusion. Why would he do such a thing? There had to be something else going on that she was unaware of, something that negated his sense of responsibility, and she was determined to find out what it was. She would here to convince him to come back with her, but suddenly, she was afraid.

What if he refused to speak with her? What if he sent her away without a word of explanation? What if she never saw him again? How would she carry on if he rejected her?

Still unsure of what she would say, Janeway walked through the lounge and paused at the entrance to the sleeping alcove.

"Chakotay?"

Although she said his name only once, the man on the bunk rolled over and looked up at her in surprise.

"Kathryn?"


	13. Chapter 13: Truth

Disclaimer: See part 1

Cruel and Unusual

By mizvoy

Part 13: Truth

(moments later)

"What the hell do you think you're doing here?" Kathryn Janeway demanded, yanking the alcove's curtain aside so the lounge's bright light nearly blinded the man sleeping on the bunk. "Chakotay!"

"The name is Caldera, and I'm trying to get some sleep." He rolled onto his back and draped an arm over his eyes to block out the light--and to keep from looking her in the eye. "Isn't that obvious?"

"Let me rephrase the question." She took two steps into the alcove and stared down at him, trying to decide whether she wanted to slap him or throw her arms around him. "What the hell are you doing on this ship?"

"I'm a pilot."

"Why?"

"Because I needed a job." 

"Who are you kidding? You walked away from your job." Her anger flared. "Don't play games with me."

There was a long silence before he moved his arm slightly and squinted up at her. "I had to get away, Kathryn. My life was in shambles, and I needed peace."

"Peace?" She spread her arms wide and rolled her eyes upward, as if appealing to some higher being for guidance. "You'll never find peace by running away, Chakotay. You can't escape, because you carry your guilt with you wherever you go. You know that."

He rubbed his face with his hands, muffling the emotion in his voice. "Maybe I can't escape, but I can't stay, either. I'm not brave the way you are, Kathryn. I can't endure the look of disapproval I see in every face back home. I'd rather be alone than lonely in the middle of a crowd."

"The looks. Yes. I know what you mean." She slumped slightly, leaning against the wall across from Chakotay's bunk. He was so close to her that she could have leaned forward slightly and put her hand on his arm. She itched with the desire to touch him.

"I don't know how you've endured it, especially since you've dealt with it alone." He still hadn't really looked at her. "I'm sorry for that."

"It hasn't been easy, but it's easy to face them when I know that I did nothing wrong." She took a deep breath. "They've judged us unfairly, Chakotay, but, for all that, I'm just as much to blame as you. I'm the person the public should condemn. It was my idea that we go sailing."

He turned his face away from her, studying the wall. "You didn't break your vows, Kathryn. You never swore to love and protect her."

"In a way, I did. I promised to protect her when I took her from the Collective," she whispered. "And I loved her as much as you did."

"Neither of us loved her enough."

She took a step, raising an arm so she could lean against the door jamb until he finally looked up at her. His hair was long, almost shaggy, and it hung over his forehead, hiding his tattoo, but his eyes were the same warm brown, his dimples and mouth unchanged. She felt her heart wrench as she realized how much she missed him, how much she wanted to have him back. 

"Chakotay, what happened after the boat crashed was just a case of going into survival mode. We were cold, hurt, injured, reeling from yet another brush with death. It's easily explained away, and Seven would have known it was the truth."

"Oh, I think you're right about that." He closed his eyes as he remembered Seven's trust and belief in them. "I'm not leaving because people misunderstood what happened in the cabin. There's another, more ominous disloyalty that I must pay for."

"I don't understand."

"The truth is ugly and inexcusable." His tortured eyes bored into hers. "We lied, and not just to Seven. We lied to ourselves, refusing to acknowledge the truth. If we had been the only victims, then I could live with that. But Seven was an innocent bystander who trusted us. She was too naïve to think that the two people she trusted most in the universe would betray her." 

Janeway sat down at the foot of the cot, her head spinning. "How did we betray her?"

He laughed and shook his head. "Still in denial, aren't you?" He swung his legs over the side of the bed so he could stare at the floor. "She saw that she wasn't first in my heart, as my wife should be. I let her down."

"We both let her down." Kathryn was suddenly weak with fear at the dejection she saw in his posture, the pain she heard in his voice. She'd come to bring him home with her, not to hear his confession. She wasn't sure she wanted to hear his confession, after all. "Running away makes everyone think that you're guilty."

"I feel guilty, Kathryn."

"If you're guilty, then we both are."

"If you say so. How we atone for that guilt is a personal choice."

"You don't have to leave," she insisted, her voice wavering with emotion. "You can do your penance at home."

"No, I can't, because it's over. Do you realize that? Our friendship is over, and with it, I'be lost my home."

"Our friendship is over?" she whispered. "Why?"

He looked up at her in disbelief. "How could we continue to work together, go places as friends, without creating even more of a firestorm? It would just prove to people that they were right about us being shacked up, make them think that we're glad that Seven is 'out of our way.' Those judgmental looks wouldn't fade away, they'd get worse. Those whispers behind our backs wouldn't get softer, they'd get louder and more strident, until, finally, we would find it too painful to be together. And if I can't be with you--," he paused, looking past her at the stars, "I'd rather just disappear into the sunset."

"Just like that. You just get up and walk away."

"Not 'just like that,' no. Every step breaks my heart. Leaving like this is the hardest thing I've ever done."

"Then to hell with them! I don't give a damn what people think about us, Chakotay." When she heard his laugh of disbelief, she got angry. "Who are they to judge us, anyway? What right do they have to be our judge and jury?"

"They don't have the right. We'll do it ourselves."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'd rather leave on my own terms."

"Dear God." She studied him as he stood up and walked to the viewport, his back turned to her. This conversation wasn't turning out as she hoped; she was failing to reach him, and the result, his leaving forever, made her sick with fear. "Don't do this."

"What else can I do? I'm not going to stay and watch you gradually turn away from me. I'd rather die."

"I swear I won't turn away from you." Tears glittered in her eyes as she saw him shake his head in disagreement. "You're as much a part of me as my arm or . . . or my heart. I need you."

"As Seven would say, 'You will adapt.'"

She stood up, her fists clinched at her sides. "But I don't want to adapt!"

"How do we keep from it?" He turned toward her, his face in shadow, before he chuckled. "But you're different. When Kathryn Janeway is faced with a problem that is distasteful or impossible to overcome, she simply refuses delivery."

"There are always other options," she insisted.

"Exactly." He smiled at her, and she could see the whiteness of his teeth, the dark crags of his dimples. "Frankly, I'm not worried about you. I think you'll come out of this smelling like a rose. It's hard to hit a moving target, after all."

"You don't have to pilot a tub like this. You don't have to sleep in a closet and be a delivery boy on the outskirts of the Federation." She stood up to face him. "If you want to be isolated, I'll get you a posting on a Starfleet ship that's assigned to the frontier. You can be a captain and call the shots."

He shook his head. "I refuse to tie myself down. I might want to sign onto a research ship and leave Federation space altogether."

"You didn't even take your credits."

"I don't need them. In fact, I set up a trust, with you as trustee. All my stuff and Seven's."

"What am I supposed to do with it?"

"I trust you to use it wisely. Help Icheb get established. Pay for Naomi's college. Or Miral's." He shrugged.

"How will you live out here?"

"I'll work. I'm being paid to help pilot this ship, you know, unless the captain fires me for being the reason behind this bogus inspection."

"It's a training exercise."

"Yeah, right." He chuckled and turned back to the viewport where the sleek Sargasso Sea hovered just off the port bow. "Now that's what I call a starship, don't you agree?"

She refused to let him divert her line of questioning. "Where will you go?"

"Wherever I can find work." He knew she was staring at him, yet he refused to turn around. "I don't need that much, really." 

"Those credits are yours. You earned them, and you should have them."

"I don't want them."

She was reeling from his careless attitude and frantic to think of something to say or do to make him stay. "How will I know you're all right?"

He shrugged his shoulders and turned around, leaning against the edge of the window. "You won't."

"Chakotay, that's unacceptable."

"Unacceptable, hmm?" He shook his head at her words, the look on his face unconvinced. "Tell me one thing, Kathryn, and, for once, tell the truth. Do you love me?"

She could feel her heart pounding. "You know I love you."

"I don't know, that's why I'm asking." His eyes bored into hers. "How long have you loved me?"

She tore her eyes from his face and stared at her hands, amazed to see tears falling on them. "New Earth? Probably even earlier than that. It seems as if I've always loved you."

"Yet never, not once, have you ever told me how you feel."

"The time was never right."

"Wrong. There's never a wrong time to tell someone that you love him."

"I apologize, then. I was sure that you'd want to act on our feelings, and I couldn't do that," she insisted.

"I would've understood why you wanted to wait. I waited, anyway."

"Huh." She ducked her head, tears burning behind her eyelids. "Then, I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry, too, because ignoring it led to this disaster."

She looked up. "There's a saying about that."

"A Klingon one," he nodded. "'True love ignored becomes a bloody sword.'"

Her eyes widened. "Is that what you mean when you say that we're guilty? Everything that happened can be traced back to our failure to be honest with each other?"

"If we'd been open about our feelings for each other on Voyager, I doubt that Seven would have approached me. If I had known where I stood with you, I would have turned her down. If you'd known that I loved you more than anything or anyone else in the world, you would have called my dalliance with Seven to a halt."

She stared at him. "But, if you didn't love her, why did you marry her?"

"I gave up on you, and I thought you'd given up on me."

"Ridiculous."

"Is it? Once the admiral told you Seven and I were involved, it was over. I didn't realize what had happened until it occurred to me that you would never acknowledge your love for me if doing so hurt Seven in any way."

"And so you married her?"

He rubbed his face in embarrassment. "It sounds absurd when I say it out loud, but I married Seven because of her close association with you. As her spouse, I would always be close to you, even when we stopped working together. I married Seven so I wouldn't lose you."

The silence that followed his admission was filled with tension. For a moment, Janeway wasn't sure she understood his words, and then she felt the warmth of a blush crawling up her neck and into her face. She could tell that he expected her to be upset with him for what he'd done, and she had to admit that he'd violated Seven's trust. And yet, she could also see how her refusal to discuss her feelings had brought him to this unethical decision.

"We don't always get what we want, Chakotay."

"But couldn't we have talked about it? Couldn't we have acknowledged it at least, sometime in the last eight years?"

"What good would that have done?" She realized that a tear had escaped her right eye and swiped at it with annoyance. "It would have done no good at all in the Delta Quadrant, not when we were so constrained by our positions."

"It would have made us confront the truth. It would have helped us make better decisions." He'd raised his voice and walked toward her, finally kneeling in front of her. "Maybe Seven would still be alive."

"What?" she looked into his face for the first time. "Still alive?"

"Seven knew that our marriage was a farce, and she blamed herself for it. Time and again she apologized for not being 'human' enough for me, and I let her think that was the problem, because I couldn't admit that I'd married her on the rebound."

Shocked, she covered her mouth with her hand as tears brimmed in her eyes. "So when she saw us together at the cabin—."

"It probably added to her feelings of failure." He stood up. "I don't know. I guess we never will."

She buried her face in her hands. "She never knew the truth—that we never acted on our feelings, not once." 

"More's the pity." He hovered over her, so close that she could feel the heat radiating from his body. "Our dishonesty killed her, Kathryn, and her demise was the end of any chance for us to be together."

"That doesn't mean you have to leave," she insisted.

"It means that I can't stay." He moved away from her, back to the window where he could look at the powerful, sleek ship. "It's enough that I have to live with the guilt of causing her death for the rest of my life. To be near you and never with you would be cruel and unusual punishment, even if it fits the crime. That's why I'm leaving—because, in spite of what I've done, I can't stop loving you."

The silence that followed his words was unbearable. She tried to think of something to say, some way to object to his reasoning, but words failed her. She sat down on the cot, wringing her hands, staring at his back as he looked out of the window at the lonely cold of space. Finally, a communications signal broke the silence between them.

"Powak to Admiral Janeway."

Janeway sat up, shocked to remember where she was and what she was doing. She quickly regained control of her emotions and replied, "Go ahead, Captain."

"The inspection is complete, Admiral, and everything is in order. Captain Jamieson is bringing his engines back online and is anxious to get underway."

"I'm sure he is. I'll be right there." She watched Chakotay put a hand on either side of the window and hang his head between his shoulders. She hadn't touched him, and now she realized with a pang that she would probably never have another chance to do so.

"You left without even telling me goodbye, Chakotay." She stood up and adjusted her uniform, nervously smoothing the material over her stomach and hips. "You just sneaked away like a thief in the night."

"How could I ever tell you goodbye?" His voice was thick with despair. "How does a person cut out his own heart and go on living?"

She blinked back the tears that burned her eyes. "I wish you would stay and work things out."

"Seven is dead, and her blood is on my hands. It's too late, Kathryn, to make things right." He raised his head, turned, and looked her in the eye. "I'm sorry." 

"As long as we're alive, Chakotay," she pleaded, "we can atone for what we've done. We can make it right."

He shook his head. "I'll never live long enough to do that."

"Chakotay." Tears glittered in her eyes. "Didn't you say that you love me?"

"I always have, Kathryn, and I always will," he stepped back into the shadows of the compartment. "Living the rest of my life without you is my penance."

"What a mess," she whispered, stepping back. "What a terrible mess we've made of our lives."

He didn't reply. She slowly raised a hand and tapped her commbadge, requesting to be beamed directly to her quarters.

She kept her eyes on him as long as possible, until she rematerialized in the privacy of her rooms. Tears streaming down her face, she collapsed on the bed, too tired and depressed to go to the bridge. Captain Powak was more than capable of piloting the Sargasso Sea back into Federation space without her silent presence beside him.

In the meantime, Janeway had to find a way to mend her broken heart.


	14. Chapter 14: Arrival

Disclaimer: See Part 1.

Cruel and Unusual Punishment

By mizvoy

Part 14: Arrival

2381 (two weeks after Part 1)

Deep Space 3

"Let me help you," Chakotay said when the woman ahead of him sagged against the railing of the stairwell that lead from the docking ring to the immigration offices. He took one of her bags from her, slung it across his back, and then hooked her free arm through his.

"Thank you." The overburdened woman shifted the small child on her hip and started up the next flight of stairs while leaning heavily on Chakotay's arm. "My baby probably kept you awake for the entire flight from Sanctus V. I expected you to do your best to get away from us, not offer to give me a hand."

Chakotay gave her a charming smile. "I was the oldest of six kids, so a fussy baby makes me feel right at home."

"You're too kind."

He'd travelled tourist class on a dilapidated personnel ship that serviced the fringes of Federation space, sleeping for two nights running in a reclining seat that was just slightly more comfortable than the floor or a hook on the wall. The woman and her child had occupied the two seats across the aisle from him and had been the source of constant noise and disruption. Chakotay suspected that the baby was teething and was just as uncomfortable in the reclining seat as he was. No doubt they all would have been happier in one of the private cabins, but the fare was too expensive for the average traveler.

When no one took the seat beside him, Chakotay had spread out a bit and had done some reading, but, even so, he was relieved to get out of the cramped seat and stretch his muscles. Almost two years of outdoor labor had left him unused to long periods of inactivity.

They were about halfway through their climb when he noticed that Nazza, the young mother, was out of breath and struggling to continue. He pulled her aside on one of the landings to take a breather as other weary travelers passed them by.

"Why did we have to dock so far from Customs?" she wondered. "There are many empty docking spaces that are closer."

"I imagine it has to do with the ancient ship we were on. The docking clamps have to match, and ours were out-dated. They probably keep a distant dock or two for ships like ours because they come along so infrequently."

"I thought it might be that the Federation didn't want our old bucket to be visible from the populated areas." Her eyes flashed with resentment.

"The Federation really isn't like that," he assured her. "If anything, the residents would probably enjoy looking at our old 'bucket.' It's practically an antique."

She gave him a close look as they resumed their journey.

"You know about the Federation?"

"I grew up here." He offered no more information, and Nazza knew better than to ask.

"This is my first trip."

"My only advice is to keep an open mind. Don't believe what you've heard unless your own experience confirms it."

"Will they have water for us at Customs?"

"Water?" He smiled down at her in sympathy. "Sure. They'll also have a comfort station with snacks, a washroom, and even a spare diaper, if you run short."

"That will be a relief."

He nodded. "You'll find that the Federation is populated by good and bad people, just like anywhere else."

When they finally reached the Reception Level, Chakotay helped Nazza get some food and water before settling her and the baby into chairs.

"I checked the schedule," he told her, "and you'll be processed through in a few minutes. Have a good visit."

"Thanks for your help, Mr. Caldera," she told him. "I hope your trip is a good one, too."

"Thanks."

He checked the time of his appointment and took a seat, taking advantage of the wait to look closely at his surroundings. It had been just under two years since he'd been in Federation space, but it seemed like much longer, perhaps because he'd only been here for one year out of the last twelve, counting his time in the Maquis and on Voyager. He was curious about how much, or how little, things had changed in the meantime.

The room was tastefully and efficiently designed to handle a large number of incoming visitors as quickly as possible while maintaining a high level of security. The people providing refreshments were armed with radios and panic buttons, and he spied no less than fifteen cameras scanning the room. He imagined there were that many more in less conspicuous locations, imbedded into the design of the paintings or the carvings that decorated the doorways.

He shook off the paranoia of being observed and focused, instead, on the passengers who were waiting with him—mostly human, but with an interesting variety of aliens mixed in. After months of seclusion, he was relieved to be among people again, more relieved than he'd expected to be. He wondered if he should rethink his living arrangements and make regular visits into civilization.

Even though the Dominion War had been over for years, Chakotay could still sense an undercurrent of suspicion in the behavior of the customs officials who were calling the passengers forward for inspection. Some individuals went through the gauntlet with relative ease, while others had every item of their baggage scanned and physically searched.

He tried to find a pattern in the searches. Was every third person, fifth person? Were there certain categories of aliens, certain groupings of individual? The only pattern he saw was that one particular human clerk was especially strict, searching the belongings of nearly every person he interviewed. While he probably thought of himself as "thorough" in his work, Chakotay detected a little bit of glee in the man's eyes and an enjoyment of the power he wielded, especially if the immigrants seemed afraid of him.

To Chakotay's relief, Nazza's number was called by a jolly clerk who appeared to genuinely enjoy meeting new people. Nazza and her infant sailed through customs without a problem; she turned to wave goodbye to him as she left the room to catch her next transport.

Chakotay wasn't so lucky, for when his time came, he drew the power-hungry agent. He walked deliberately toward the counter, determined to use his best diplomatic skills to defuse any possible conflict and speed up the process. Only later would he remember Neelix's famous caveat about successful social intercourse, "The gears have to mesh or the machine comes to a grinding halt."

"Your documents." The agent held his hand without looking Chakotay in the eye, ripping the isolinear chip out of his hand and studying it as if it might show some aberration on its surface. It was the latest style chip, provided to him in the packet from Starfleet, and the agent was obviously taken aback by it. Sliding it into his reader, he said, "Ramon Caldera?"

"Yes."

"Planet of citizenship?"

"Sanctus V," Chakotay replied. 

"Really?" The man glanced briefly at Chakotay, taking in his salt-and-pepper hair, deeply-weathered face, and worn clothing with an air of surprise and a hint of distrust--here was an alien who had up-to-date technology, yet claimed to from a remote, even backward planet. He returned to his view screen. "I don't see these isolinear chips very often. Where did you get it?"

"I received it from a friend." He studied the man's name tag—Bret Azzendoor and wondered if his attitude had come from being teased as a child.

"I see." The clerk paused to think, giving Chakotay another up-and-down look. "What is the purpose of your visit and your destination?"

"I'm traveling to Earth to visit friends."

"And the duration of your visit?"

"I'm not sure. A month, maybe two."

"I thought Sanctunarians refused to have dealings with the Federation."

Chaktoay frowned. The truth was that Sanctus' population was made up of Federation refugees, or malcontents, depending on your point of view, and most would never consider returning to the Federation for any reason whatsoever. Not only had they rejected the Federation, they willingly exchanged their Federation citizenship for that of their new home planet. Some were considered traitors.

"I try not to stereotype people," he said with a shrug. "There are some Sactusians who would return if they had a good reason."

"You gave up your Federation citizenship?"

"I couldn't settle on Sanctus V without doing so."

"Hmmm." The clerk returned to the screen and looked at every page in detail while Chakotay became conscious of the long line of people waiting behind him. Finally, the clerk pulled the chip out of the reader. "Do you have a sponsor for this trip?"

"Yes, I do." He pulled out a second chip, this one bearing the distinct Starfleet stamp.

Azzendoor slipped it into his reader and clicked his tongue. "Wow. Sponsored by Starfleet's chief of research? With clearance for distinguished visitor's quarters?" He glanced up at the taller man and studied him again. "You must have been somebody."

"I _am_ somebody." In spite of himself, Chakotay's temper flared; he barely repressed the urge to reach across the counter and throttle the arrogant punk.

The clerk narrowed his eyes. "Where is your baggage?"

Chakotay slipped his backpack off of his shoulders and set it on the counter between them without a word.

"Just the one bag, then." At Chakotay's nod, he unfastened the top and began to sift through the contents. "Please empty your pockets into the tray on your right."

Chakotay complied, trying not to let the man know how angry he was becoming. No other passenger had been asked to empty his or her pockets in the entire hour he'd watched, and he had the distinct impression that he was getting "special" treatment that might qualify as harassment.

Then he noticed the vacant, seldom used "fluids check" station at the back of the room, a screening used extensively to search for changelings during the Dominion War. While Chakotay had nothing to hide, his DNA was on record, and he didn't look forward to explaining why he was traveling under an alias. He'd have to keep that particular scan from taking place.

"Are you harassing me because I gave up my Federation citizenship?" he demanded, raising his voice as he emptied his pockets. "I have done nothing wrong and demand that you summon your supervisor."

"Mr. Caldera, please," the clerk replied, glancing around to see if anyone had heard. "I'm just doing my job here."

"Bullshit. I've been watching the way you treat people, and you like wielding power over them, don't you?" Chakotay shoved the tray toward him so that it fell off to the floor with a clatter. "It gives you a thrill to make us open our bags so you can sift through our underwear, right? Or sort through our pockets looking for the stray alien coin for your collection?"

"You've got your nerve!" the clerk yelled, turning the bag over and dumping its contents on the counter and letting most of it fall to the floor. He reached into his pocket as he sneered, "In just a minute, I'll have you cooling your heels in the holding cell, no matter who your sponsor is!"

"By planting this in my bags?" He moved quickly, reaching across and grabbing the clerk's hand just as he pulled it out of his pocket, and just as the supervisor arrived.

"Is there a problem here?" the supervisor asked, giving the clerk a warning look.

Chakotay nodded, his voice calm. "This man was about to 'find' whatever it is he has in his hand in my belongings."

"Let's see it, Bret," the supervisor ordered. "Open your hand."

"He's a traitor, damn it! He deserves whatever he gets!" The clerk jerked his arm away from Chakotay, backing away and shouting at all of the clerks who stared at him from their stations up and down the counter. "You're soft. You're blind to the dangers these people represent! He can't be trusted. None of these people can! They're going to attack us, you'll see."

Two security officers appeared out of nowhere and grabbed the clerk by the arms. After a short tussle, Bret relented and placed a contraband listening device in his supervisor's hand.

"Take him to the break room and call the director," the supervisor ordered. Everyone in the room watched, open mouthed, as the clerk was dragged, kicking and screaming toward the turbo lift. The room was strangely quiet once he was gone.

The supervisor turned to Chakotay and gestured at the belongings that were strewn all over the inspection area. "I'm very sorry for this."

"It's all right," Chakotay answered. He picked up his bag and began to stuff his belongings back into it. "Is he still fighting the war?"

"Yeah, he is. His twin brother was killed by a changeling who then used his identity to infiltrate his security unit." He leaned down to help repack his bag. "We thought he was feeling better, but he obviously still has issues. I'm going to have to review his recent 'findings,' as well. He may have implicated others falsely."

"It's hard to get over something like that," Chakotay sympathized. "I hope he gets the help he needs."

"I'll see that he does." They finished picking up the spilled contents and then regarded each other across the counter. "Did you want to press charges?"

"Nah. I don't want to cause him any more trouble."

"Very well." The supervisor went through his information quickly and welcomed him back to the Federation.

"I'm glad to be back," Chakotay admitted. "Can you tell me how to get to the hostel?"

"Hostel? You know that your paperwork allows you to use the Starfleet DVQ."

"I know." He took the PADD back from the man and lifted his bag over his shoulder. "I prefer the hostel."

"Level Eight. You'll see directions once you enter the starbase proper."

"Thanks for your help."

"Mr. Caldera, I apologize for what happened here on behalf of Customs and the Federation."

"Apology accepted."

"Have a good visit," the man said, looking past him at the waiting passengers. "Who's next?"

Chakotay sighed and walked through the gateway to the welcome center, where he picked up the latest transport schedules, downloaded the most recent Fednews report, and ordered the first cup of coffee he'd had in five years.

It tasted better than he remembered.

Earth (a few hours later)

Kathryn Janeway had been tossing and turning in bed for an hour when she heard the faint, but distinct chirp of an incoming official message coming from her study down the hall. She crawled out of bed, pulled on a robe, and walked to her desk on autopilot, activating the screen without a thought. Maybe a few minutes' diversion would help her relax and fall asleep. 

"Kathryn!" Starfleet's diplomatic liaison, Admiral Lucerne, grinned at her. "You're awake at this hour?"

She grinned and smoothed her hair self-consciously, although there was no need to impress him. Frank Lucerne had been a classmate at the academy and a frequent escort since Voyager had returned three years earlier. "You know how hard it is to break old habits." 

"Insomnia again? Sorry to hear that. I was just going to leave you a message and let you know that Chakotay is on his way. I honestly didn't think he'd come."

Her pulse quickened and she sat down in her desk chair with a plop. "When?"

"He entered Federation space tonight at Deep Space 3. I'm sending you the surveillance tape of his confrontation with the border guard." 

"Confrontation? He caused trouble?"

"It was more the guard's fault than his."

She nodded. Life was different on the borderlands where the friction between the "haves" of the Federation and the "have nots" of the border region often boiled down to a personal dislike. "Is he all right?"

"I'll let you judge for yourself." Lucerne sat back and crossed his arms, giving her a close look. "I was amazed at his skill in such confrontations."

She shrugged. "I routinely sent him off on scavenging missions when we were stranded in the Delta Quadrant. You wouldn't believe how many first contacts he's made over the years. In time, you develop a sort of sixth sense about people."

"I believe it." He paused, obviously worried about his next comment. "He looks pretty rough, Kathryn. His clothes are worn, and his hair shaggy. He looks like someone who's been living in the wilds and has wandered back into civilization. I'm afraid he won't make a very good impression at the dedication. Are you sure you want him there?" 

"Seven was his wife, Frank, and his assets served as the seed money when we proposed the new cybernetic research wing." She smiled, though, at the thought of Chakotay as a wild man. "But, I'll do what I can to make him look respectable once I see him."

"He stayed at the hostel, by the way, even though he had been authorized to use the Distinguished Visitor's Quarters."

She groaned. "I can't say that I'm surprised."

"And he's made reservations on a public transport with the civilians instead of accessing Starfleet ships, as you predicted."

"Just so we keep track of him."

"You don't think he'll contact you now that he's on his way?"

She frowned and shook her head. "I wouldn't be surprised if he disappeared from sight, Frank."

"Kathryn, there are two security people on his tail."

"Sorry if I have my doubts. He's a Maquis, you know."

"I'm thinking you overestimate him."

"I'm thinking you underestimate him." She laughed and thanked him for sending her the recording. Once they signed off, she stared at the Federation star field and hoped that everything transpired as she'd planned.

She had received confirmation of the Hanchet delivery, but this was a sure sign that Chakotay had read the packet. His arrival at the border meant that he might be coming to the ceremony, but only time would tell. He was a "contrary," as she recalled, someone who followed his own rhythm and direction.

However, the thought of seeing him again made her hands clammy and her heart race. Too excited to sleep, she downloaded the recording into a larger PADD and found a comfortable seat, foregoing coffee because of the late hour.

The reception area on Deep Space 3 was filled with security cameras, so it had been a simple task for one of the security officers to follow Chakotay at all times. At first, he had been a familiar form amidst a crowd of people, but then a camera zoomed in on his face.

Janeway caught her breath, surprised that the sight of him created such a deep reaction. He was, as always, controlled and comfortable in the tension-filled room and more than capable of dealing with the insolent border clerk. The sound was spotty, but she could see his entire interaction with the clerk, smiling when he caught the man about to plant contraband in his bags. After watching the confrontation a couple of times, she focused on the grainy close-up of his face. 

He was two years older, of course, as was she, and the evidence of his lifestyle was clearly visible. His hair had turned grey and was pulled back and bound at the nape of his neck in the style of his people. His face was deeply lined, leathery from exposure, and tanned to a dark bronze. His clothes were weathered and worn, but they were obviously clean and comfortable.

He looked like a man who lived and labored in the sun and wind, but the eyes were the same warm brown and the lips were still full and sensuous. He was delicious, and she longed to see him in person. 

He had been right. They should have been honest with Seven of Nine and with themselves. If they had admitted the truth, then they never would have been separated. She wanted to tell him that he had been right, that they had, indeed, committed a sin of omission.

But more than that, she wanted to touch him, to trace the lines of his tattoo, to smell the clean scent of his skin.

She loved him. She still loved him, after all these years.

God forgive her.


	15. Chapter 15: Damage

Disclaimer: See Part 1.

Cruel and Unusual Punishment

By mizvoy

Part 15: Damage

2381 (two weeks after part 14)

"Where the hell is Chakotay?" Kathryn Janeway peered through a doorway at the people assembling for the dedication ceremony of the newly renamed Annika Hansen Cybernetic Research Wing of Starfleet's Medical Center in San Antonio. She let the door shut quietly and turned to Tuvok, who stood placidly beside her. "Why would he bother to return to the Federation after all these years unless he intended to attend?"

"We assumed that he returned to attend the dedication, but we never knew for certain," the Vulcan pointed out. "He told the immigration clerk that he was visiting friends."

"What friends? It's been two weeks, and no one has seen him."

"Perhaps he has friends that we aren't aware of."

"Well, we would already know if he hadn't managed to evaporate into thin air." Janeway shook her head and rubbed a hand across her forehead. "I should have had you set up the surveillance of him. Maybe then he wouldn't have disappeared as soon as he left DS3."

"I have reviewed the surveillance plan that was in place and assure you that it was adequate."

"For a person who doesn't mind being followed, it might have worked, but not for someone as wary as Chakotay."

Tuvok raised an eyebrow at her characterization of him. "Paranoid?"

"Perhaps he is." She walked slowly toward group of officials who were participating in the dedication--a couple of admirals from Starfleet, Voyager's EMH, and one of Seven's relatives from Sweden. They all looked at her expectantly.

"Any sign of Mr. Chakotay?" Admiral Hayes asked.

"No, sir," she replied, hiding her consternation. "We know that he reentered Federation space two weeks ago, but where he is now is anybody's guess. We have no idea whether he intends to be here today."

"Then we'll have to go with Plan B," Hayes decided, turning to the holographic doctor. "I assume you're ready?"

"Yes, sir. I'm honored to give the keynote address."

Janeway was glad for him. The doctor had been so distraught over the part he'd played in Seven's death that Janeway had initially wondered if he would ever recover. He had thrown himself into task of bringing the Hansen wing into existence, starting with the assets that Chakotay had left in Janeway's care and campaigning for other donations.

They had both benefitted from this project. The cybernetic wing of the medical center that had been the location of Seven's death was now dedicated to the treatment of the psychological and social struggles former drones faced as they returned to their previous lives. They were determined to prevent other drones from succumbing to the desperation Seven of Nine had felt when she underwent her ill-fated surgery.

"You'll do a great job, Doctor." Janeway smiled at him and then glanced into the foyer where most of the guests had already taken their seats. "We might as well get started."

She followed the rest of the dignitaries onto the stage and took a seat facing the crowd, scanning each face for a familiar tattoo. The ceremony was taking place in the wing's entryway, a three-stories-high, breathtaking expanse with one glass wall that allowed the sunlight to stream into the building. The late afternoon sun slanted across the room and fell on a mosaic representation of a Borg cube interior set into floor-to-ceiling wall across from the windows.

Her mind wandered as the first two admirals made their remarks. She remembered the first time she'd met Seven of Nine, during her controversial pact with the Collective to defeat Species 8472. Seven had been arrogant and dismissive from the first, and the two of them had disagreed about ethics, values, and personal actions time and again in the next five years. Never in all that time, never once, had there been the slightest suggestion of a spark between Seven and Chakotay. Why had she so readily accepted their marriage after the admiral's visit?

Chakotay had surprised her. Once he'd shown up at DS3, she'd expected him to come directly to Sector 001 and take part in this dedication which honored the life and the loss of Seven of Nine. Why else would he have returned? What else could he be doing?

The time came, at last, for Janeway to take the stage and introduce Voyager's EMH, the individual who had initially rescued Seven from her Borg bondage and had ultimately brought on her untimely death. She spoke eloquently of Seven's desire to restore herself to her purely human state and recalled her despair when faced with one roadblock after another when seeking a solution.

"She was a victim of the Borg to the very end," Janeway finished. "She needed more psychological and emotional help than any of us realized, and this wing, dedicated to her memory, will help other drones find hope as they dream of a better future."

When the EMH took the lectern and her part of the ceremony ended, Janeway returned to her seat and let her eyes follow the graceful lines of the arches that soared three stories upward in a web-like frame. She could see the blue sky and puffy white clouds in the afternoon sky against which the support beams and catwalks were put into stark relief.

A slight movement caught her eyes, something in the uppermost region of the western wall that looked like the shadow of a man. She kept focused on the location, trying to remember if a security officer had been stationed there to monitor the meeting from above.

"Why have someone watching from way up there?" Janeway thought as she lifted a hand to block the light. He was wearing black clothing, but without the familiar cut of a Starfleet uniform. Perhaps because he noticed her steady regard, he came to attention and began to move toward the access door at the far side of the catwalk.

"He isn't supposed to be there," she thought to herself. She stood up and moved quietly toward the wings as the doctor continued his speech. She watched the observer with her peripheral vision and waited until she was out of sight of the audience before she reached for her commbadge.

"Janeway to Tuvok."

"Tuvok here."

"Someone was watching the ceremony from the catwalk overhead. When her realized I was watching him, he left through the west side access door."

"Acknowledged," Tuvok replied. "I'm heading toward the west exit now."

"Why wouldn't he just beam out?"

"There is a dampener in effect that prevents transport from anywhere except the authorized transport rooms."

"Of course. I forgot about that." Janeway paused to think, imagining the layout of the building. "The nearest transporter room is right off of the foyer, but he'd never use that during the ceremony."

"I agree." Tuvok's voice changed a bit as he exited the building. "I'm scanning the west access to the roof, but I am picking up no life sign."

Janeway nodded. "Could he be wearing a biodampener?"

"He might be. He might also take a circuitous route to a nearby transporter room."

"The closest one would be in the main building," she guessed, stepping over to a window and studying the huge hospital complex to the north. "He could be anywhere in there."

"Not really," Tuvok disagreed. "There are a limited number of transporter rooms available this late on a Saturday afternoon."

"Excellent point. I'd think he would head for the heavy duty transporters in supply and maintenance." She trotted down the hallway to the door that exited into the quadrangle, the most direct route to the hospital. "Meet me there, in the basement level."

"Acknowledged," came the reply.

Janeway trotted across the grassy quadrangle, the ceremony long forgotten, breaking into a sweat because of the hot sun and the high humidity. As she approached the building, she wondered if the observer might have been Chakotay. Sneaking into the ceremony would be consistent with his behavior since Seven's death—a consistent refusal to appear publicly or acknowledge in any way the part he might have played in Seven's untimely death.

She arrived at the hospital complex drenched in sweat and out of breath, only to discover to her frustration that the door was locked. It took just a few seconds for her to override the lock with her access code and step into cool and quiet interior.

As Tuvok had predicted, the building was deserted on a late weekend afternoon. She searched the hallway for the stairs that led to the subterranean level, raced down them, and then stopped to study the floor plan posted on the wall in order to locate the nearest transporter room. She arrived at the transporter room's doors just as the hum of the equipment being brought online filled the hallway.

"Stop!" she shouted, beating on the door when it failed to open. "Identify yourself!"

She could hear someone working inside the room, but the door refused to open, and she realized that it had probably been jammed by the intruder. She opened the emergency panel for the override lever, muttering a few favorite Klingon curses under her breath, until the door finally slid partially open and revealed man as he stepped onto the transporter pad .

"Stop!" Janeway repeated, using her hands and her hip to pry the doors open wide enough to squeeze through. "Please, stop!"

The man turned to face her, his face still hidden in the room's deep shadow. "Kathryn?"

"Chakotay? Is that you?" she replied, her heart swelling in her chest as she dashed to the console to try to abort the transport.

"Kathryn, nooooo! Don't--." His words were lost as the blue sparkling light of the transporter beam took him away.

Janeway quickly circled the console and found an open tricorder in the middle of the console. An unusual series of warning lights scrolled across the work screen, and the, a split second later, blue tongues of intense heat enveloped her hands, licked up her arms, circled around her head, and then smashed into the room's ceiling with a deafening roar and a blinding flash of light and heat. Broken ceiling tiles showered the room, wall panels burst open, and portions of the console melted, leaving the room full of smoking debris.

When Tuvok and his security team arrived moments later, they found Kathryn Janeway unconscious amidst the sparking wreckage, her face and hands covered with angry blisters.

Six hours later, Tuvok stood in the hospital room where Kathryn Janeway lay on a biobed recovering from her injuries. Suffering from severe smoke inhalation, her lungs were augmented by an intensive care arch with an oxygen infuser. Hidden from view were the deep tissue regeneration "mittens" on her hands and arms that were rebuilding the tissue destroyed by third degree burns. The damage to her face had been less serious, and he could see newly generated pink skin where the blisters had been. The singed ends of her hair had been cut away in a haphazard manner, exposing more of her neck and ears than Tuvok had seen in several years. Even so, he was relieved that her injuries were not life-threatening.

Her recklessness was legend among those who served with her. He wondered how often he'd watched over her as she recovered from her brushes with death, how many times he'd chastised her for her brashness. She should have waited for him to join her before entering the transporter room, but it was not in her nature to slow down or take precautions that might result in losing track of the intruder.

This explosion had been an accident. In their brief, initial investigation, the security team found remnants of a tricorder that had been programmed to erase the coordinates of the beam out, not to destroy the console. Several hours later, Starfleet engineers discovered that a previously undetected malfunction in the transporter's power relay had brought on the overload. If the console had gone through the normal warm up and pre-transport check, if a qualified operator had been on duty to monitor the readings, there would have had sufficient time to abort the beam out and shut down the system before the relays became critical.

Tuvok's prompt arrival had saved Janeway's life, according to the EMH, yet his presence was no longer needed. The biobed continuously monitored her condition and was set to activate Voyager's EMH at the slightest change in any of her readings. He was there because she would ask for him when she regained consciousness and because he hoped to be able to answer her questions on the identity and the location of the unknown observer.

It must have been Chakotay. They had both suspected as much from the first, although neither of them had voiced their thoughts to the other. Who else could have infiltrated a Starfleet facility? Who but a Maquis would use an old tricorder trick to cover his tracks? There was only one question remaining, and that was whether he had survived the transport—something that B'Elanna Torres estimated at 50/50. Tuvok was sure of one thing: if he had survived, he would come to check on Janeway's condition.

The Vulcan closed his eyes as he repressed the fury that threatened to break his stoic reserve. The long and convoluted relationship between Voyager's command team had bothered him for many years and had reminded him of the conflicted nature of human beings. Swayed by emotions that they could barely control, they managed to find equilibrium through a friendship that denied definition and yet had sustained them until the ship returned.

The real problems began once they arrived in the Alpha Quadrant, beginning with the strange marriage between Chakotay and Seven of Nine. But nothing had prepared him for the two years since Seven's death. Chakotay had acted poorly. His refusal to accept his role in his wife's death had burdened Janeway with a nearly impossible weight of guilt, one that she had carried with her usual fierce determination. His decision to observe the dedication from a distance might have been consistent with his recent behavior, but it was also unforgiveable. Janeway deserved better.

He opened his eyes and gazed at the small woman on the biobed. She had been his commander for many years and would always be his friend, but he was unable to protect her from her own flaws. At least she was no longer suffering. She rested comfortably, the heavy sedation shielding her from the excruciating pain of deep tissue regeneration, the arch infusing her blood with oxygen that her injured lungs could not, as yet, supply.

He heard a slight sound and stepped farther into the shadows. The door opened, admitting a man clad totally in black who, with a quick glimpse at his surroundings, moved silently to Janeway's side. He was so focused on her condition that he failed to notice the Vulcan who stepped out of the shadows to stand directly behind him.

The visitor leaned over the biobed, gently tracing the tender, pink skin on Janeway's forehead.

"Dear God, Kathryn," he whispered, his voice betraying his sorrow. "Am I doomed to destroy everything I love?"

"Apparently so," Tuvok answered, stepping back as Chakotay swung around to face him.


	16. Chapter 16: Reprieve

Disclaimer: See Part 1.

Cruel and Unusual Punishment

By mizvoy

Part 16: Reprieve

(Immediately after Part 15)

"Tuvok! You scared me half to death." Chakotay glanced around and was relieved to see that no one else was lurking in the shadows. "What are you doing here?"

"I was observing the admiral and waiting for you."

"You were waiting for me?" He watched as the Vulcan circled around the foot of the biobed and then faced him from the opposite side.

"I felt certain that you would check on her condition, that is, if you managed to survive the transport."

"I wasn't scratched." He looked down at the woman who separated them, who had, for so many years, bridged the gap between them. "So you've been waiting here? To arrest me?"

"Arrest you for what?" Tuvok arched an eyebrow in surprise. "You were invited to the dedication ceremony, even if you chose to watch it from an unauthorized location.

"Not for that. For this." He cupped his hand over Janeway's unevenly shorn hair, nearly overcome with remorse. "Isn't it against the law to assault a Starfleet admiral?"

"I have no evidence to use against you. The engineers decided that the explosion was caused by a malfunction in the console triggered by a hasty transport."

"What about the tricorder?"

"The fragments we found showed a program designed to erase the transport coordinates, not trigger an explosion."

"Even so . . . ."

"Plus, there is no proof that you were there."

"But Kathryn saw me."

"Perhaps she did. Short term memory is often damaged by trauma like hers."

Chakotay looked back down, stroking his hand over her hair. "She said my name, and I've heard her voice echoing inside my head ever since."

"It doesn't matter. Even if she remembers seeing you, she'll never press charges."

"How can you know that? Has she been awake?"

"No, I haven't spoken to her. Even so, I know she will not press charges against you."

"She'll lie?"

"She'll do nothing so transparent. She'll say she didn't have a clear view of the person on the transporter pad or that she 'hoped' it was you. She'll claim that what she does remember has been clouded by the injuries she suffered in the next few seconds."

Chakotay blushed, ashamed of the loyalty she always extended to him. Tuvok was correct; she would never accuse him, even if she remembered everything perfectly.

"I deserve to be charged," he whispered, "if, for nothing else, being a coward these last two years."

Tuvok repressed the urge to agree and studied his former crewmate intently, gratified to see anguish in Chakotay's eyes. The man had paid a high price for his self-imposed exile. His lean, weathered body was evidence of the hard work he'd experienced, and his awkwardness revealed just how lonely he had been. Janeway would forgive him for his flight after Seven's death, and so the Vulcan forgave him, as well.

"A coward punishes himself," Tuvok observed, "often more severely than he might have been punished by others. You deprived yourself of your home, your friends, even your identity for the last two years. And for what reason? Because you fell asleep with your best friend in your arms?"

Chakotay's head snapped up. "If only it had been that simple."

"The truth is usually simple."

"This truth isn't. I didn't leave because I was caught sleeping with Kathryn on the sofa."

"Then perhaps you can explain."

He sighed, gently running his thumb over the new skin on Janeway's face. "When I was informed of my wife's death, I was more concerned about what her death would do to my relationship with Kathryn than anything else. Can you believe that? Seven was dead, yet all I could think about was that my friendship with Kathryn was probably over."

"What you're saying is that you loved the admiral more than you did your wife."

"That's what I'm saying."

"And so, because you felt guilty, you left rather than staying beside her through the storm."

He was quiet, holding stock still, and the only sound in the room was that of the arch as it supplied oxygen to Janeway's body.

"I'm not trying to apologize, Tuvok, or offer any excuses for my behavior," he whispered. "There's nothing I can say that would justify my leaving her alone the way I did."

"And yet, without a second thought, she forgives you."

Chakotay wilted, leaning heavily against the biobed as he buried his face in his hands, fighting back the tears that burned in his eyes. The Vulcan looked away, unwilling to witness such deep emotion in such close proximity. He remembered discussing the situation with the admiral two years earlier, following her failed attempt to find Chakotay and bring him back with her.

_"Did you find him?" Tuvok stood in front of Admiral Janeway's desk, his hands held loosely behind his back. Janeway gave him an impatient look, for she had never admitted to him the real reason behind her recent trip to the fringes of the Federation. _

_"Yes, I did, for all the good it accomplished." She absently watched her finger as she traced the rim of her coffee cup, but he could see the sadness in her eyes and in the muscles that worked in her jaw. "He wouldn't listen." _

_"And so you let him go." _

_"What else could I do, Tuvok?" She picked up the mug and drained it before getting up for a refill at the replicator. Her back to him, she said, "He feels guilty about what's happened, and being confronted with it every day by the press, by our friends would only make him more miserable." _

_"And you? Aren't you in the same situation?" _

_"I'm much better at controlling my emotions than he is." She turned toward him as she took the first sip of hot coffee, and he realized that she was right. Her "captain's mask" was firmly in place, and there was no indication of the anguish she felt at losing her best friend. "I asked so much of him on Voyager, and hurt him so deeply in the process, that this is one thing I can do to try to make things up to him." _

_"I can't imagine what you did to hurt him," Tuvok replied, a frown on his face. "I detected nothing abusive in your treatment of him." _

_"Oh, it was insidious, I assure you, and done with a subtlety I perfected over seven long years." She shook her head and returned to her desk, sitting down and swiveling her chair to gaze out the window. She raised her chin in a typical show of courage, and yet Tuvok was sure her lip trembled for a moment. "Especially after everything that happened on New Earth, when I felt so conflicted by my feelings, my responsibilities, my guilt, I had to make sure he believed me. I did everything I could to convince him that I didn't love him." _

_"Hmmm." Tuvok raised an eyebrow. "I always sensed that you shared an intimate friendship with him, but nothing more." _

_She laughed and gave him a fond look. "I fooled you, too, I suppose. I should be an actress." _

_"You're saying that you were in love with him?" _

_"I was in love with him," she agreed, turning back to the window. "I am in love with him. I will always be in love with him." _

_"And you told him this when you found him?" _

_"I tried to, but he wasn't ready to listen." _

_"And so you let him go." _

_"Yes, I did. What else could I do?" She sipped her coffee and then heaved a sigh. "I'm responsible for this disaster, can't you see that? I concealed my real feelings from him and even encouraged him to marry someone else on the rebound. I betrayed them both, Tuvok, and now it's time to pay the piper. At least he's alive." She looked up at him with tortured eyes. "At least he didn't take his own life the way Seven did." _

_"You blame yourself for her death?" _

_"Of course, I do." She turned and put down the empty mug on the desk with a resounding thud. "I was so busy hiding my feelings that I was blind to her need for help and her dissatisfaction with her marriage. I should have realized how frustrated and depressed she was about her remaining implants." _

_"You aren't a counselor." _

_"No, I'm not, but her counselor missed it, too, and that's a problem. We have to do a better job of helping former drones like Seven, and I intend to do just that." _

_"As a form of atonement?" _

_She closed her eyes briefly, blinking back tears. "I can never atone for failing her. I can only try to help others who are struggling with the same problems." _

_"And Chakotay?" _

_"I have no right to ask him for anything, Tuvok. I understand why he has to leave, and I wish him the best in everything." She rubbed her temples with trembling fingers. "I can only hope that someday, somehow, he'll find it in his heart to forgive me." _

_"But he's left you with all of the fallout of her death." _

_"I don't blame him for that." She dismissed his words with a wave of her hand. "He's as much a victim in this as Seven is." _

The conversation ran through Tuvok's mind as Chakotay struggled to regain his composure. As if reminding himself, Tuvok repeated, "She forgives you."

"I don't deserve forgiveness. You should arrest me."

"I have no evidence that can justify filing charges against you. And although it is wrong, there is no law against failing to stand beside a friend."

"Then I'll confess, dammit!" Chakotay's voice echoed in the room, and Janeway reacted with a groan. He immediately comforted her, tears filling his eyes as he ran the back of his fingers over her cheek, his voice soft and reassuring. "Oh, Kathryn, I'm sorry. Just rest and get better. Everything's all right."

Tuvok watched him with no visible sign of sympathy, even though his heart went out to the man.

"I would rather face your fury than the admiral's," Tuvok said, when Chakotay finally looked up at him. "There will be no charges filed."

Chakotay looked back down, resigned. "Is she going to be all right?"

"The doctor says her recovery will be complete."

"She's not breathing on her own."

"Because of smoke inhalation damage. Her face suffered minor burns, but her hands were seriously injured, third degree burns. She's sedated because deep tissue regeneration is especially painful."

"I didn't mean to hurt anyone, Tuvok, least of all Kathryn. I was just trying to cover my tracks so that no one could follow me."

"Your actions perplex me. Why return to the Federation if not to attend the dedication? Why not take the opportunity to contact your friends and crewmates?"

Chakotay was silent for a long time before he took a deep breath and said, "This was her triumph, not mine. Only Kathryn could survive such a scandal and turn it into a blessing. This new facility is going to do a lot of good for other drones like Seven, but she did it, not me. I wanted to see the facility, but I had no right to take credit for what she and the doctor accomplished."

"She wanted to see you again." Tuvok waited for his friend to reply, but he was met with only silence and an almost oppressive sadness. "Chakotay?"

"You'll tell her that I didn't mean to hurt her?" he whispered.

"Tell her yourself. She'll be awake in a few hours."

He shook his head. "I'll be gone by then."

"I should hope not. You broke her heart when you left two years ago. If you leave now, after all that's happened, you'll break her spirit, as well."

Janeway moaned again and moved her head slightly; immediately, Voyager's EMH shimmered into existence.

"Her lungs have healed sufficiently enough for her to begin breathing on her own," the doctor stated, moving toward intensive care arch and making some adjustments. "I'll administer another sedative to help her cope with the procedure, and then I'll disconnect the oxygen infuser."

The arch that covered her body slid away, revealing the heavy bandages that covered her hands and wrists like thick mittens. The doctor busied himself with his patient and then turned to look at Janeway's newest visitor.

"If it isn't the galactic traveler come home at long last. We've missed you, Commander."

"I'm glad to see you, too, Doctor, but it's just Chakotay these days."

"The admiral was hoping to see you at today's ceremony."

"I know." Chakotay glanced at Tuvok, who shook his head slightly. "She's going to be all right?"

"Physically, yes. I'd say her emotional well-being is up to you." At Chakotay's confused look the doctor explained, "She misses you very much."

"I miss her, too."

"So you say."

Chakotay stepped to Janeway's side and gently placed a hand on her shoulder. "We all pay for our actions in our own ways."

"And you pay for yours by running away?"

"I've been alone all this time. It hasn't been easy."

"It hasn't been easy here, either," the doctor replied, his voice betraying his anger. "We were all reeling from what happened, trying to figure out why Seven would be so careless with her life, but you didn't stay long enough to pay your respects, much less find out her motives."

"Her motives?"

Tuvok interrupted the doctor. "The admiral didn't include a copy of Seven's personal logs in the packet she sent the commander. She was afraid they might fall into the wrong hands and hoped to have the opportunity to discuss them with him personally."

Chakotay disagreed. "I don't need to read them to know how depressed Seven was."

"The situation was more complex that you realize," the doctor insisted. "Reading Seven's logs will help you understand her motives and deal with your guilt."

"I deserve to feel guilty, Doc. I can't imagine that Seven's log will lessen my guilt."

"I realize that both you and the admiral were devastated by Seven's demise, but no one felt worse than I did," the EMH argued. "Not only did she violate my rights by disabling my ethical subroutine, she literally turned me into the instrument of her death. In the furor following her demise, there were times when I thought I should simply give up and decompile my program.

"That changed after I read her logs and finally realized how poorly we understood her. She was a quick study and learned to adapt, but her compliance was never more than skin deep. She was a Borg to the very end, Commander, and while the rest of us overlooked her implants, to her, they were a sinister reminder that her goal of becoming fully human was doomed to failure."

Chakotay nodded. "The regeneration chamber reminded her of that, too."

"Yes, and it severely limited her freedom." The doctor shook his head and walked away, studying the wall panel behind the biobed as he continued. "On Voyager, her lack of mobility wasn't a problem; none of us was able to leave the ship for long. But here, on Earth, she saw her dependency in stark relief. She isn't alone. When the admiral and I talked to other former Borg about their frustrations, we learned that they, too, are depressed and hopeless. The admiral realized that we needed to do something to help them."

"And so she worked toward the new Hansen wing." Chakotay nodded. "Kathryn referred to it as her 'penance' in the package she sent to me on Sanctus V."

Tuvok interrupted once again. "She believed that it was time for you to come home for good, Chakotay. She hoped that listening to Seven's logs would help you find peace."

"Peace." Chakotay struggled with his decision, dreading the prospect of hearing Seven's voice. "Where can I get a copy?" he asked at last.

"I have a one," the EMH replied. "You can access it here, if you want."

"I might as well get it over with."

The EMH downloaded the file into the computer that was in the small observation alcove at the far end of the room. Chakotay sat down in front of the screen, but spent the first few moments gazing into the room and watching the doctor continue his work. At last, once he'd steeled himself for the experience, he activated the screen.

The initial shock of seeing his late wife's face and hearing her voice nearly overwhelmed him. He closed his eyes for a moment and then realized that he needed to restart the playback because he'd been too shocked to absorb her words.

He finally focused on her words and found himself drawn into her emotions as she spoke of her life. He was amazed to hear her true feelings about her life and marriage and astounded at how poorly he'd understood her. Time and again, he stopped the replay to listen a second or third time to a particular entry because her words took him by surprise. He was learning that his assumptions about her attitude and her desires were completely wrong, and he knew that he should have talked things through with her and helped her deal with her depression.

Her final entry hit him the hardest. She had recorded it just a few hours after her fateful visit to Lake George and just moments before she'd altered the EMH's program so that he could perform the dangerous and ultimately fatal procedure. It was literally a deathbed confession.

/_I don't love Chakotay the way a wife should. I've tried several times to explain to him that I was unprepared for marriage and that I want a divorce, but he refuses to believe that we can't overcome our problems. He seems to think that admitting failure is worse than continuing to live a lie. _

_/When I saw him this morning, asleep with the admiral in his arms, I knew that I had inadvertently come between two people who truly loved each other. When I saw them, I had a flashback to my childhood when I saw my parents sleeping together on our ship. I realized that my affection for them was the same kind of love I once felt for my parents. It was a moment of clarity that brought everything else into stark relief. _

_/When the transporter clerk said something about "shacking up," I didn't know what he meant. Now I understand that he saw their togetherness as some sort of offense against me because I am Chakotay's wife. But he was wrong. I know that they did nothing wrong. They were taking refuge in a cold building and needed each other's warmth to survive. It's the proper thing to do in such extreme circumstances, and so, naturally, that is what they did. _

_/I know that they would never do anything that they believed would hurt me., and that is why my marriage happened. However, it's unfair to let them feel responsible for my happiness any longer. My continuing Borg deficiencies have not only hampered my development but have made them pity me. They have put me ahead of their own wishes, and I can no longer tolerate that kind of sacrifice. I will make the attempt to remove these final implants. If I succeed, they will let me go because I will no longer be at a disadvantage on Earth. And if I fail, my misery will be over. Either way, we will all move ahead, and they can be together, as they should be. _

_/I have heard people say that who we love and how much we love them is beyond human control. While both Chakotay and Admiral Janeway love me, they will always love each other more. If I had understood this fact on Voyager, I would never have pursued a relationship with Chakotay in the first place._

_/My only real concern is what I will do to the EMH. I promised him that I would protect his program from being hijacked again, and yet here I am, about to force him to take actions he would find objectionable. I ask his forgiveness in advance and absolve him of any responsibility for whatever happens because of the procedure. _

There was no farewell. In typical stoic fashion, Seven simply closed the log and went on. Chakotay listened to that final log entry three times before he slumped back in his chair in complete amazement.

He shut down the PADD and glanced into the treatment area. Tuvok was alone, still standing vigil over Janeway's unmoving body, when the EMH rematerialized.

"Her hands are sufficiently healed," the doctor said to Tuvok as he gently unfastened the bandages that had been rebuilding the muscles, tendons, and ligaments of her hands. The delicate new skin was bright pink and fragile, too frail to endure the normal abuse human hands receive. The EMH retrieved a skin cream from the counter that would help toughen the new skin, a normal final step to the treatment of serious burns.

Chakotay stood up and met him at the biobed.

"I can do that, doctor," he said, taking the flat container of cream from the doctor's hands. "It's the least I can do."

"You've read Seven's logs?" the doctor asked, giving him a measured stare. "You understand what happened and why?"

"I think so. Seven still suffered from emotional issues about her assimilation and recovery, but she seemed, on the surface, to be adapting well." He nodded in the direction of the Hansen Wing. "That's why you and Kathryn have worked so hard to get this new initiative underway—to help others like Seven who are trying to return to 'normal.'"

"You can imagine how relieved I was to hear her 'forgive' me for what I did when I performed the procedure. It's been my hope, and the admiral's, that you would feel equally relieved by her words."

"They help a great deal," Chakotay admitted.

"All that remains is for you and the admiral to come to terms with each other's actions in this matter," Tuvok added, joining the two of them beside the biobed. "I hope that you'll take advantage of this opportunity to talk to her and find peace."

"Peace." Chakotay nodded and then glanced at Janeway. "I'd like to be at peace again."

"I'm allowing the admiral to awaken gradually from the sedative," the doctor replied. "She'll be in pain when she regains consciousness unless this medication is applied in the next few minutes."

"I'll apply it now." Chakotay moved to Janeway's side while Tuvok and the EMH retreated to the alcove to observe him from a discreet distance.

The EMH sighed as he sat down at the computer monitor to make some notes on Janeway's condition. "Let's hope this is the beginning of the end."

"Indeed," the Vulcan replied, watching as Chakotay prepared to treat Janeway's burns. "They both need to find closure before they can move on with their lives."


	17. Chapter 17: Healing

Disclaimer: See Part 1.

Cruel and Unusual Punishment

By mizvoy

Chapter 17: Healing

(Immediately after Chapter 16)

The room was quiet after Tuvok left and the EMH deactivated himself; even the monitors on the biobed were silent now that Janeway was breathing on her own. As Chakotay put on the thin gloves and opened the container of lotion, he studied Janeway's hands, noting the way the newly healed burns left her skin thin and fragile, almost shiny on the surface, and bright pink because the blood was so near the surface.

He knew from experience that even a breeze or the soft brush of a blanket against those areas could create an agonizingly hot tingling pain. The cool, soothing salve would lessen the skin's sensitivity, thicken it slightly, and provide great relief from pain.

The slight wrinkle between her eyes told him that she was regaining consciousness and becoming aware of the pain, and so he scooped the ointment into his palms and gently lifted her right hand.

For a moment, he stared down at her hand, so small compared to his own, so fragile-looking and slender, and yet so deceptively strong. This was the first time he'd touched her in over two years, since the day after Seven's death, and he felt his heart expand in his chest as he reverently began to smooth the medicine over her sensitive skin.

Janeway moaned slightly, but then sighed in relief as the emulsion took effect, reducing the angry pink skin tone and the slight swelling that accompanied it. He massaged the salve into each finger, into the palm and the back of her hand, and into the skin of her wrist and arm with slow gentle strokes. Finishing that hand, he scooped out more of the salve and picked up her left hand, once again enjoying the intimate feel of the treatment as he gently and lovingly soothed the cream into her skin.

He completed his work, but kept her hand in his grasp, lifting it to his lips for a quick kiss. Her intake of breath and the increased pressure of her fingers told him that she had regained consciousness, and he glanced up to see that her eyes were wide open and staring at him.

"Chakotay?" she whispered, her voice thin and reedy. "Is that really you?"

Before he could answer, the EMH approached from the far side of the room, having been activated the moment Janeway regained consciousness.

"It's really him," he answered, checking her biosigns and nodding in approval. "How are you feeling?"

"My hands hurt. And I need a drink of water."

The EMH looked up and gave Chakotay a curt nod. "Chakotay will get that for you. When you're feeling better, Tuvok will be in to ask you what you remember about the accident."

"Accident?" She sat up with Chakotay's help and sipped the water he replicated for her. "Is that what happened? I don't remember much."

"Short-term memory loss is common in incidents like this," the doctor replied as he completed his examination. "Perhaps you'll remember more details later on."

She lay back down and closed her eyes. "Perhaps."

The doctor clucked his tongue and turned to Chakotay. Just before he blinked out of existence, he said, "She needs rest, but I see no reason why you can't speak with her for a few minutes. Let me know if you need me."

Chakotay nodded, smiling slightly as he gazed down at his former commander. "It's me."

"Yes, I see that." She smiled up at him. "What happened?"

"I rigged a tricorder to erase my beam out coordinates, but it triggered an overload in the console. You were caught up in the explosion and burned your hands pretty badly. Your face and hair, too."

"My hair?" She lifted her hands toward her face only to stop and stare at their reddened skin. Turning them back and forth in front of her face, she muttered, "Oh, my."

"They'll be fine in a few days," he reassured her. "You know how burns look while they're healing."

"The dedication," she continued, piecing things together. "You were the person who was watching from the catwalk?"

He nodded again. "I should have stepped forward, I know. I just felt so out of place."

"No, I should have realized how difficult it would be for you to attend." Tears brimmed in her eyes. "I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable."

"I regret leaving the way I did. I would never have returned except that I wanted to see the good that you've brought out of this disaster." He picked up her hand. "I apologize."

"The only thing that matters is that you came, Chakotay. I've missed you so much."

"I've missed you, too."

She twined her fingers through his. "I feel better, just having you here."

"No, you feel worse because I'm here." He ducked his head. "It's my fault you were burned when the console overloaded."

"It was an accident."

"I should have just talked to you, although you would have been better off to let me go."

"I did that once, and it was a mistake." Janeway frowned slightly and shook her head. "I don't remember anything about the console. Really. The last thing I remember is crossing the garden to the main building, and then I woke up here, with you holding my hand."

Chakotay nodded, wondering if she was telling the truth about her memories. "I'm afraid you lost some hair, too."

"It'll grow out." She smiled up at him. "It's so good to see you."

He gently brushed her cheek where the skin was still pink. "I'm so sorry this happened."

"I know you are, so don't worry about it."

"I always seem to hurt the people I love the most."

Her eyes filled with tears again. "I wanted you to come back so you could listen to Seven's logs."

"I did. The doctor downloaded them while you were sleeping."

"And?" She brushed a tear from her eye. "What did you think?"

"I was surprised at how poorly I understood her."

"I was, too." She took a deep, calming breath. "Everything I did to help her ended up hurting her instead. You aren't the only one to blame for what happened, Chakotay."

"I was--."

"Don't tell me that you were her husband. I know that. I also know that I was the one person she trusted to help her more than anyone else—even more than she trusted you. I let her down, and I've paid dearly for that."

"We both have," he agreed.

She stifled a yawn. "I want to talk to you, but, suddenly, I'm very sleepy."

"It's the middle of the night. You should get some rest."

She stared up at him, her blue eyes studying his face. "Promise you'll be here when I wake up?"

"Promise."

She held up her left hand, and he grasped it with his right one, lacing their fingers together as they had on New Earth, when he'd first declared his devotion to her. "If you leave, I'll find you, Chakotay. I mean it."

"I'll be here. I promise."

She gave him a weak smile and let her eyes drift shut. Once he was sure she was asleep, he released her hand and dragged a chair to the side of her bed where he could doze while she rested.

He reveled in the peaceful feeling that came from being close to the woman he loved, soaking up all he could like a thirsty man saturates his body with water in a long-lost oasis before he heads back into the desert.

After all, he already had plans to leave the next day.

Janeway's condition and Voyager's crew intervened to keep Chakotay around for a few more days. Many of the crew had come to San Antonio to attend the dedication and were delighted to find out that Chakotay was there, as well. They talked him into taking a room at their hotel, and they kept him busy while Janeway underwent daily therapy sessions to strengthen her lungs and complete the healing of her hands.

Janeway was glad to have the chance to spend more time with him, but she could tell that he tolerated rather than enjoyed the constant social interaction. But she could tell that he wasn't going to stay much longer, and she feared he would leave before they had a chance to clear the air.

She attempted to discuss these issues with him, but he deftly turned every conversation away from their painful past. Even when they were alone, he was strangely reticent to talk about his life, preferring to hear about her campaign to build the research facility, about her work in the admiralty, and about the on-going difficulties that the Federation was experiencing with the Romulan Empire. About his own life, however, he had little to share—and about Seven's death, even less.

She bided her time, enjoying his company and trying to find a way to encourage him to open up to her.

After a week, the doctor declared Janeway fit for duty, and she prepared to return to San Francisco. She invited Chakotay to dinner that evening.

"I think you should come to San Francisco with me," she said after they finished eating. "There are more people who want to see you, and I know of a university or two looking for someone to teach courses in Delta Quadrant cultural studies."

He shook his head sadly, looking at her across the coffee table that separated them. "Thanks, but now that you're on your feet, I should return to Sanctus V."

She tried not to panic. "Why must you leave so soon?"

"Well, for one thing, my visa is about to expire."

"I can fix that in a heartbeat."

"And Sanctus is my home, Kathryn. I live there."

She braced herself for a difficult, but necessary confrontation. "From what the Ballinst messenger told me about your 'home' on Sanctus V, you live like a hermit, all alone in a shack out in the middle of nowhere."

"I prefer to be alone most of the time, but I visit the local trading post every few weeks and have an occasional visitor wander by."

"What do you do with your time?"

"I didn't have much spare time the first year or so. I brought only the bare necessities with me and had to work hard to make the place livable. Since then, I've done a lot of writing about what happened in the Delta Quadrant. I've found the process very therapeutic."

"I'd like to read what you've written sometime." Janeway ran a hand across her forehead, depressed at the thought of his solitude, and then she wondered if these "occasional visitors" that he mentioned offered him more than just company. "Are you involved with a woman?"

He laughed at the suggestion. "No, Kathryn, there's no woman in my life. In fact, I don't tolerate visitors for more than a day now and then. Solitary confinement, that's the way I live."

"Solitary confinement?" she repeated, setting down her coffee cup in surprise. "You make it sound as if you're serving a life sentence."

He shrugged. "Haven't I heard you say that we all make our own hell?"

She stood up and walked to the window, dreading the pain that she knew the upcoming discussion would cause them. "You're talking about Seven's death?"

"Seven was just the last in a long line of missteps, Kathryn. She paid for our flaws with her life. She was the innocent victim who dies in the final act of the play."

"The play?" Janeway shook her head and turned to face him. "What are you talking about?"

"I've had a lot of time to think about how you and I communicated—or failed to communicate—over the years. You evaded the hard questions, and I talked in riddles. The result was that we never really communicated at all."

Janeway studied his face. After a long moment, she chuckled and gave him a quirky smile. "I think that's an apt description of us."

"Are you ready to address the problem directly?"

"I am if you'll stop talking in riddles."

"All right." He poured them both another cup of coffee, luring her back to the sofa.

She sat down across from him and looked at him over the rim of her mug. "Why won't you stay here, Chakotay? Why exile yourself on Sanctus V when this is your real home?"

"I can't come back for two reasons." He sipped his coffee and sat back in his chair. "My exile is an atonement for how my behavior hurt Seven of Nine. Okay, I know now that my actions didn't lead directly to her death, but my failure to love her had to have undermined her self-confidence."

"You aren't alone in that. I let her marry you when neither of you was ready. Should I exile myself the way you have?"

He shook his head. "We find our own penance. Yours was to build the Hansen Wing to help other former drone avoid the depression that killed her. Every time you succeed, you renew your redemption. My penance is to be alone."

"For the rest of your life? Chakotay, no judge or jury would sentence you to a lifetime of exile."

"Maybe not. I don't know."

"How much longer, then? Another year? Two more?"

He shrugged. "I just don't know."

Janeway was frustrated, but decided not to belabor the point. "You said there were two reasons for your leaving. What is the second reason?"

"You are."

"Me?" Her eyes widened with surprise. "You have to live like a hermit because of me?"

Chakotay set his empty mug on the table beside him and crossed his arms over his chest. "This is where we always fail to be honest with each other. This is when I usually resort to indirection, and you begin a few dozen evasive maneuvers."

Janeway nodded, recognizing in her reaction a sudden urge to avoid the topic of their feelings for each other. "I think you're right. Please be direct, and I'll try not to dodge and parry."

He rewarded her with a dimpled grin. "As ironic as it sounds, I'm leaving because I love you too much. For years, I accepted the fact that you couldn't, or didn't, love me back, but now it's clear that by clinging to false hope, I hurt everyone I cared about."

"Wait a minute," Janeway said, shaking her head slightly. "Did you just say that you have to leave because you love me?"

"I can't stay near you any longer and not be with you."

"Then be with me."

"Impossible. The scandal surrounding Seven's death has ruined our chances, can't you see that? Our being together would damage your reputation and your career. I can't let you do that."

"You left to protect me?" Janeway was almost too stunned to speak, taking a moment to gather her thoughts. "You unilaterally decided to protect my reputation and career by leaving the Federation?"

"That's part of it."

She struggled to control her anger. "How dare you decide what is best for me, without even discussing it first!"

"But you don't understand," he countered, hoping to defuse her bubbling anger. "I would want it all. All or nothing."

"And you assumed that you couldn't have it all?"

"I knew what you'd say."

"Did you?" She glared at him, gripping the empty mug to keep her hands from trembling. "You knew what I'd say."

"I thought I did." He looked away, suddenly unsure of himself. "Anyway, I know you've moved on, thanks to this project. I came back for the dedication, Kathryn. Now that it's over, I have to leave."

"I begged you to stay then two years ago. Do you want me to beg this time, too?"

"It wouldn't do any good." He looked up at her.

"We can't change what happened in the past, but we can make better decisions now by being honest with each other."

"I'm being honest."

"Then, you have to listen to me. Seven's logs told everyone that we weren't responsible for her death. In fact, she wanted us to be together as her surrogate parents. She wanted the three of us to be a family."

He laughed. "Do you really think that could have worked, Kathryn? I had been her husband. How could I suddenly become a father-figure?"

"Truthfully, you'd always been a father-figure to her." She leaned forward and looked him in the eye. "Those logs helped me see how unique Seven was, how different from anyone else I've ever known. She had no childhood and none of the usual assumptions about relationships between men and women that we get from living with our parents. Marriage, to her, was just another type of 'collective,' and she saw no reason why it was monogamous, why it couldn't have included all three of us. We misunderstood her, Chakotay, and underestimated her, too."

"Her logs were . . . amazing, all right." Chakotay's eyes were troubled. "How could we have lived with her for so many years and yet failed to understand her true character?"

"Perhaps she learned that from us. We'd become quite good at side-stepping emotional land mines with each other, and she may have thought that was the way adults behaved." She gave him a wistful smile. "We were, after all, the only examples she had of proper human behavior.

"Emotionally, she really was just a child in spite of her very grown-up physique," he agreed, looking down at his hands. "I married her because I knew you would always stay close to her and her family."

"You didn't expect that I'd want to stay close to you, too? Chakotay, you were my best friend."

He shrugged. "All I knew was that I'd ruined my chances by becoming involved with Seven. At least I believed that to be true."

"It was true," she whispered. "I would never have taken you away from her."

He rubbed his face with his hands. "And so I made a pact with the devil by marrying her, and hurt everyone in the process."

"What's done is done," she insisted. "And all of it is two or three years in our past. If nothing else, your self-imposed exile has let the dust settle."

"And it's left your reputation and career unsullied," he said, smiling at her. "You're one of the most decorated and respected admirals in Starfleet."

"And one of the loneliest." Her eyes filled with tears. "Please don't go."

"Don't tell me you've lacked for male companionship."

"I've lacked for your companionship, Chakotay. I've never found a satisfactory substitute."

"I'm sorry. I can't be here. I can't see you and not be fully involved in your life the way I was on Voyager."

"Then be fully involved with me."

His eyes widened. "What are you saying?"

"You say you love me too much, that our relationship is all or nothing, and yet this is the first time in all the years that I've known you that you've actually told me how much you care."

"You didn't want to hear it."

"I wanted to hear it. I dreamed of hearing it. But I couldn't let myself hear it because I was your captain and because the ship was trapped in the worst possible circumstances." She sighed and closed her eyes for a moment as tears burned behind the lids. "And then you were involved with a woman I considered my surrogate daughter." She took a wavering breath. " But now that things have changed, do you care enough to fight for me?"

"It's too late for that, Kathryn, years too late. The cards were stacked against us from the first, and now I'm too tired and too disheartened to think about it."

Janeway nodded, feeling foolish for hoping that there could still be a chance for them after all the water that had passed under the bridge. The last thing she wanted was for him to laugh at her undying optimism.

"I won't beg you to stay," she heard herself tell him, "but I want you to know one thing for sure before you leave. I do love you, Chakotay. I have been in love with you for so long that I can't remember not loving you."

"More's the pity," he whispered.

They lapsed into an uncomfortable silence punctuated by the muted sounds of other hotel residents moving down the hallway. Janeway studied the inside of her empty mug while Chakotay gazed out the window at the clouds that drifted by, neither able to think of another thing to say.

"Admiral?" Janeway's aide stood just inside the door. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but Mr. Chakotay is scheduled to beam out in fifteen minutes."

"You aren't interrupting anything, Lieutenant," Janeway insisted, standing up and smoothing her uniform. "Thank you for the reminder."

Chakotay rose to face her, giving her a sad smile. "I thought it might be easier to leave from here than from San Francisco."

"You might be right. Do you mind if I walk with you?"

"I'd like that."

He offered her his arm, and they strolled through the hotel looking like friends taking a leisurely stroll. No one could detect the anguish Janeway felt as she prepared to say goodbye to her dearest friend. No one would suspect how determined Chakotay was to continue punishing himself for his actions—even if he hurt others in the process.

Their conversation was just as misleading. She asked how long it would take him to reach Sanctus V and how many transfers he would make along the way. He wondered when she would return to San Francisco and what her next big project would be. She made him promise to answer her letters and messages and to keep his friends informed about the happenings in his life. He offered to meet her if and when her duties brought her to the fringes of the Federation, anywhere near his home.

They arrived at the busy transport station just down the street from the hotel and turned to each other with the sudden realization that this might be the last time they see each other. Silent and serious, they walked through the station to the waiting room hand in hand.

"Mr. Chakotay," the transport chief said as he entered, "we're ready for you now."

Chakotay turned to Janeway and cupped her face in his hand. "Thanks for all you've done. Take care of yourself."

"You, too," she replied, too shocked to object to this hurried departure. "Keep in touch."

He nodded and turned to take his place on the transporter pad. Moments later, she watched in silence as the transporter beamed him to his transport ship.

Janeway stared at the spot he had once inhabited until she noticed how the chief was watching her with undisguised alarm.

"Are you feeling okay, Admiral?" he asked, moving toward her. "Would you like to sit down for a minute?"

"I'm fine." She held up a hand to stop him. "Just a little tired, that's all."

She made her way out of the building in a daze, retracing the path she and Chakotay had just taken moments earlier. She was blind to the sights surrounding her, deaf to the sounds, remembering only the feel of Chakotay's arm under her hand, the solid comfort of his body as they walked.

Now he was gone, and some of the color had faded from the universe. Nothing seemed familiar any more, and so she wandered through the city, looking for something, anything to give her a purpose in life.

But her mind was stuck on one thought--he was gone forever, and she had to learn to live without him.


	18. Chapter 18: Redirection

Disclaimer: See Part 1.

Cruel and Unusual Punishment

By mizvoy

Chapter 18: Redirection

(later that day)

"You have gone AWOL, Admiral."

Janeway looked up into Tuvok's face and shook her head. "What time is it, anyway?"

"Nearly midnight." He sat down beside her on the bench and looked at the brightly-lit exterior of the Alamo church. "You haven't answered your hails."

"Oh, I guess not." She pulled the commbadge out of her pocket and looked at it, not bothering to activate it. "I wanted some time alone."

"You won't mind if I contact your aide and tell her that you're fine."

"Not at all." She blushed as she shoved the commbadge back into her pocket. He contacted her aide, reassuring her that the admiral was fine, while Janeway was surprised to see that the sky had grown so dark. She wondered whether she'd been in some sort of trance to have been so oblivious to the passage of time. When Tuvok finished his call, she asked him how he had managed to locate her.

"My Starfleet security clearance allowed me to access local police scanners. I looked for the unique composition of the Starfleet commbadge."

"There must have been dozens of hits."

"Two hundred and sixty-five within an eight-block radius of the transport station."

"And you checked them out one by one?"

"No, I eliminated those that were still active, since I assumed you would answer a hail if you heard it, leaving only six. However, I did check out three other inactive ones prior to finding you here."

"I hope you weren't worried about me."

"You did disappear after saying goodbye to Chakotay. I knew you would be distraught."

"You didn't think I might have left with him?" She knew him well enough to read the truth in his face—he knew Chakotay wouldn't have asked her. "I needed some time."

"You've been through a great deal of emotional turmoil in the last week. The dedication of the Hansen wing. The pain and anguish of the injuries. The reunion with your former first officer."

"In spite of all that, I assure you that I'm fine."

"This period of reflection makes me think otherwise."

"Oh, I'm sure it's just a passing mood. I admit that I felt a bit discouraged after Chakotay beamed out, so I decided to cheer myself up by taking in the sights along the Riverwalk, having a glass of wine with dinner, and watching the tourists."

Tuvok glanced around the deserted plaza. "It would seem that the tourists have all gone home."

"So it would," she laughed. "I guess I was pondering the Alamo itself—a shrine to a hopeless cause."

He studied the smooth white church that was commonly associated with the Alamo. "Your characterization of the shrine is problematic. While the battle for the Alamo was a hopeless cause, that defeat became the rallying cry of a revolution and eventually led to Texas' independence."

"And so those who fought here died for something." She stood up. "What is the Vulcan saying? 'The good of the many outweighs the good of the few.'"

"'Or the one.'"

"That was my mantra on Voyager, when I was consumed with the goal of getting the crew home. Only now am I beginning to appreciate how lucky I was to have a cause like that--first on Voyager, and then, after Seven's death, the creation of the Hansen Wing. Something I believed in enough to make sacrifices worthwhile."

"Not every cause is worth such sacrifices," he replied, giving her a quick, sideways glance. "And that troubles you."

"Yes, it does." She studied her hands. "I've been thinking about my next assignment for Starfleet and, frankly, it bores me to tears. I can't imagine spending the next two or three years sitting at a desk at Starfleet command."

"Perhaps you should request an assignment that's more to your liking."

"I would do that if I could think of a damned thing I want to do." She walked to a small monument that listed the fighters who had died defending the Alamo, absently running her hand over the names as she spoke. "These heroes were lucky that they didn't outlive their cause."

He frowned at the sorrow he heard in her voice. "The loss of one's life hardly seems to be a 'lucky.'"

She said nothing, staring blindly at the names, and then she leaned forward on the stone as teardrops splashed on her hands. Tuvok was beside her in an instant. He put an arm around her shoulders and called for a beam out to her hotel before she had the chance to say a word in protest.

Tuvok maintained a vigil over Janeway through the night as she grappled with her emotions, watching impassively as she spent long periods in silence and longer periods in tears. As a Vulcan, he repressed his own feelings, yet he recognized that humans need to work through them in order to accept whatever events would logically follow.

He had been Janeway's sounding board many times in the past, providing her with both advice and companionship ever since he had become her security officer during her first command. They had shared several mind melds over the years, which gave him unusual insight into the workings of her mind, and he had watched her muddle through countless disappointments and challenges that would have defeated a less formidable character.

His role as her de facto counselor had lessened some on Voyager, thanks to her friendship with Chakotay, but he had been forced to step back into the role during the last two years, helping her cope with the stress of Seven's death, the scrutiny of the public eye, and the sorrow she felt at Chakotay's absence. This particular crisis had been a long time coming, and Tuvok was glad to see that she had finally succumbed to it. He hoped that once this current anguish ended, she would be emotionally prepared to take whatever actions logic demanded of her.

When the sun rose hours later, spilling into the lounge area of the hotel suite, Tuvok was sitting in an overstuffed chair watching Kathryn Janeway as she lay sleeping on the sofa, finally overtaken by exhaustion. Tuvok had sent her aide back to San Francisco with instructions to clear the admiral's schedule for the rest of the week and to hold all calls.

At noon, Janeway's eyes opened. If she was surprised to find him still there, she said nothing about it, sitting up and pushing her tousled hair out of her eyes.

"It is nearly midday," he said, answering her unspoken question as he stood up. "I'll get you some juice and coffee."

"Thank you." She closed her eyes and laid her head on the back cushion until he arrived in front of her with a small tray. She snatched the juice, drained it quickly, and then wrapped her hands around the warm mug, sniffing the coffee aroma with a groan of pleasure. "You didn't need to stay this long."

"I disagree." He resumed his seat across from her. "My experience has taught me that such emotional outbursts require a long discussion before you are able to move on."

She sipped the coffee and sighed. "I'm not sure I'm ready to talk about it."

"Trust me when I tell you that this is the best time for you to discuss the issues that disturb you."

"Okay." She gave him an irritated look as she stood up. "But first I have to take care of some personal business."

"Take your time." He could hear her rustling around in the bathroom and then the sleeping area. Finally, she returned with her hair pulled back into a ponytail, her face scrubbed clean, and her body clad in a soft terry bathrobe. She stopped at the replicator and refilled her mug and ordering a buttered croissant before returning to the sofa. He asked if she felt better.

"Much, thank you." She sipped the coffee and regarded him in silence, probably trying to remember what she'd said the night before. "So, my aide called you to tell you I was AWOL?"

"She was concerned about your failure to return from the transport station."

"And, naturally, you assumed that I was upset about Chakotay's departure." Her tone was sarcastic, and Tuvok recognized it as one of her many defense mechanisms.

"Weren't you?" he asked mildly, watching as Janeway narrowed her eyes and looked away.

"It's been a tough week."

"That is has." Tuvok nodded at her vague reply. "And issues have failed to resolve as you had imagined they might."

"That's an understatement," she whispered and then cleared her throat. "I was overly emotional because I'm exhausted from my injuries and all the physical therapy."

"And you were deeply hurt by Chakotay's actions. Once again."

"Yes." She shifted on the sofa so she could look out of the window and avoid Tuvok's steady gaze. "I feel like such a fool for hoping that he would stay, for thinking that we could somehow salvage our friendship."

"It was that hope that fueled your optimism over the last two years, wasn't it? That was the 'cause' that made the sacrifices worthwhile?"

"I suppose so. That, and helping drones like Seven."

He took a deep breath, wishing he could demonstrate more openly the respect he felt for her.

"Admiral, I have had the good fortune to serve with you for many years and have always admired your ability to put personal wants and needs aside for the good of your ship and crew. When Chakotay left two years ago, you let him go because you felt you owed Seven of Nine some gesture of atonement."

"Yes, and I felt that someone who loved her should be there to take care of her memorial service and to try to understand why should would resort to such a dangerous procedure. Since it was beyond Chakotay's ability to do so, then the task fell at my feet by default."

"Please tell me what it was that you sacrificed."

Her eyes widened slightly. "I beg your pardon?"

"You said your work on the Hansen wing was worth a great personal sacrifice. I'm just wondering what it was that you sacrificed."

She stared at him and then slowly leaned forward to place her coffee mug on the table. For long minutes, she stared at the cup, as if hoping the answer would suddenly appear on its surface, and then she looked up at him.

"I don't know," she finally answered.

"You don't know, or you're unwilling to tell me?" He waited until she shook her head again. "Admiral, you'll never resolve this matter until you admit to yourself what your sacrifice has been."

She stood up and walked to the window, staring into the storm clouds that were boiling up from the Gulf. Tuvok watched and waited, unwilling to let her escape from this moment of self-understanding, ready to force her to face facts, no matter what the cost. At last, she turned to him, her arms crossed over her chest.

"I gave up Chakotay," she said, tears filling her eyes. "I let him go and refused to search for him because being withouyt him was part of what I had to do as penance for my part in Seven's death."

"You hoped that his return for the dedication would mark the end of your sacrifice. That is why your hopes were so high, and your disappointment was so deep."

"I suppose so. Two years is long enough, Tuvok. I hoped that Chakotay would listen to Seven's logs and understand that our actions didn't make her commit suicide. I hoped that he would stay here and resume our friendship." Tears were streaming down her cheeks as she nodded, unable to continue.

"But once again, he left."

She nodded, miserable.

"And this time," Tuvok continued, "you don't have personal quest to occupy your mind. You're distraught because you can't justify letting him go."

"I can't force him to stay, either," she interrupted, her temper flaring. "I can't call ahead and have him arrested at the border and thrown into the brig."

"You could have asked him to stay."

"You think I didn't?" she shouted, throwing her arms into the air. "I begged him to stay, to no avail. He wouldn't listen."

Tuvok remained calm, determined to keep the admiral talking. "Because he still feels guilty about Seven?"

"Not exactly." Her shoulders fell. "Because his presence here might damage my career, and he said he couldn't be around me and not with me."

Tuvok gave her a calculating look. "So, at last, it's all or nothing."

"All or nothing." She sank down onto the sofa. "That's what he said."

"For years, Chakotay accepted the fact that he could only have part of you, and a small part at that. You had your work as captain of Voyager and a journey of 70,000 light years to accomplish, and that was a challenge important enough to justify any sacrifice."

"I sacrificed my chance to be with him. Is that what you mean?"

"Precisely. And he sacrificed, too."

Her mouth opened and then snapped shut in surprise. "I guess he did."

"I assure you he did. And then, after our return, you had the debriefings to go through and the crew to resettle into their lives."

"I didn't have time to breathe."

"It was worthwhile to accept his involvement with Seven because it allowed you to delegate her care to him."

"It wasn't like that."

"Wasn't it?" He waited, allowing the silence to built beyond tolerance.

"I let him go because I thought they would be happy."

"Another noble sacrifice," he agreed. "Even though it was contrary to your own wishes."

"I suppose you're right, but I don't want to think that I did it simply to make life easier on myself."

"You thought he'd moved on, and so you let him. And then, after Seven's death, you did the same thing. You let him go because you needed to do something in atonement."

She began to pace, thinking through her motivations, and then turned to face him. "What can I do?"

"As I see it, you have two choices. Either you can let him go and accept the fact that you have only your career to live for and that you will live the rest of your life without him." He paused as Janeway groaned. "Or, you can take a leave of absence from Starfleet and follow him."

"Follow him?" She rolled her eyes. "And do what? Beg him to stay again? Throw myself at his feet? Make a public spectacle of myself?"

"You must do whatever it takes. You must convince him that you love him enough to sacrifice everything for his sake. The time has come for you to put him first in your life and tell him how you feel."

Janeway sat down heavily on the sofa and stared at him. "I told him that I love him."

"You must convince him." He watched her as she considered his advice, her eyes losing focus as she saw the truth of his advice. "What is the human saying? Actions speak louder than words."

"So I catch up with him and convince him. Then what do we do?"

"Assuming that he returns your affection, either he will return with you to the Federation, or not."

She frowned. "Not return to the Federation? Meaning what?"

"Meaning, Admiral, that your next step might involve a compromise that demands a different sacrifice from you—this time, perhaps your career."

"I guess that's only fair." She stood up and walked slowly through the room, studying the view from the window, the framed prints on the walls, gradually circling until she returned to the sofa. "He could reject me completely. Again."

"Which is the illogic of human relationships," he replied, shaking his head. "The turmoil and heartbreak of your courtship practices never fail to astound me."

She laughed at that and gave him an affectionate look. "You said a mouthful, Tuvok." She spent a few moments in thought and then stood up. "I know his itinerary. He has a layover of a couple of days on Deep Space 3 that should give me the chance to catch up with him. I just need to make a few arrangements first."

Tuvok looked up at her expectantly.

"Excuse me while I get dressed." She grinned with excitement as she rushed past him toward the bedroom.

In her haste, she missed seeing the brief look of satisfaction on Tuvok's face.


	19. Chapter 19: Departure

Disclaimer: See Part 1.

Cruel and Unusual Punishment

By mizvoy

Part 19: Departure

San Francisco (late the same day)

"You're really taking a leave of absence?" Janeway's chief of staff, Commander Anne Blake, was stunned at the news. "Just like that?"

"It's been a long time coming, Commander," Janeway assured her, placing a comforting hand on her subordinate's shoulder. "And it's just a leave of absence."

"But we were just about to get a new assignment."

"Don't worry. Before I leave, I'll make sure that you and the rest of the staff are offered positions that are to your liking and are with decent bosses. And when I get back, I'll request you, if you still want to work for me."

"Of course I'll want to work for you, Admiral. You're the sanest admiral I've ever met."

Janeway laughed, "That's a scary thought."

If Blake and the staff had been surprised at Janeway's decision to take an open-ended leave of absence, her boss, Admiral Hayes, had not been.

"You've saved enough leave to take six months off if you like," Hayes told her. "And God knows you deserve it. Just let me know when you're ready to return and what you want to do. I'll make it happen."

"I'll let you know, sir." She didn't stick around to chat with him, since Chakotay was farther away with each passing moment. Instead, she returned to her office and started packing while she tracked down at least two decent job offers for each of her subordinates. By late afternoon, her office was packed and her staff happily reassigned. She took it as a sign of good luck that everything was falling into place so quickly and hoped that the rest of her plan would go as well.

That part of the plan, however, would depend on Chakotay. She had her doubts about her ability to sway him from continuing his exile, wondering how to convince him that she loved him, finally putting those thoughts aside for later. He had nearly a forty-eight hour lead on her, so she would have plenty of time to work out her approach once she boarded the transport vessel the next morning.

When Janeway walked out of her office building that night, she felt lighter and happier than she had in years. Wondering when, and if, she'd ever return, she walked slowly through the grounds, taking in the beauty of the late evening quiet and making her peace with the career that had consumed most of her adult life.

Strangely enough, she found the idea of starting a new life both exhilarating and appealing, especially if that new life meant having Chakotay by her side. Seven full years as Voyager's captain actually translated into more than a decade of experience compared to what other officer's gained, and so she needed something new, something open-ended, something with personal overtones to tickle her fancy.

Her trip through San Francisco gave her time to organize her thoughts and make a mental checklist of the things she needed to take care of at home. She'd spent so much time living in San Antonio in the last few months that there was very little remaining to do at her house. She had closed it for an extended absence months earlier, so all she really needed to do was inform the neighbors of her departure and arrange to have one of them check on the place now and then.

The task she dreaded most was contacting her mother and telling her of her decision to travel into deep space once again. Gretchen would want to know why, and Kathryn was in no mood to tell her until she knew what would come of her pursuit of Chakotay. If things went well, she could simply surprise the family later. If things didn't work out, telling them about her hopes might mean that her sister could say "I told you so" for the next sixty years.

At least she didn't have to tell the Voyager crew why she had left, since Tuvok had promised to inform them for her. He'd predicted that they would know at once what her real motive was and that they would wish her well.

"They'll respect your privacy, as well," he assured her. "In fact, they'll be pleased that you two are finally exploring the attraction you've felt for each other for so many years." At her astonished look, he added, "We weren't blind to what was right in front of our eyes, Admiral."

In spite of Tuvok's optimism, Janeway wasn't sure that her efforts would be successful. In San Antonio, Chakotay had turned a deaf ear to her declarations of love and had ignored her suggestion that they stay together. Nothing had really happened to change his mind, so she would have to shake him up and make him believe that she was deeply and sincerely in love with him. She suspected she might have to "knock his socks off," to use one of Tom Paris's favorite terms.

She spent the two-block walk from the transport center to her house trying to come up with a scenario that would be dramatic enough to catch his attention. She hoped to come up with a plan that fell short of beaming directly into his cabin and chaining herself to his bed. Naked. With only a vial of Queen Arachnia's pherenomes to help her seduce him, just in case.

She was still chuckling at that thought when she stopped in her tracks on the sidewalk leading to her house, suddenly aware that something was wrong. She always left a timer on the lights in the study in the rear of her house, but those lights were not on, and there was a lamp burning in the living room that looked out over the front yard.

The last thing she needed was for some relative to be waiting for her to return from San Antonio. She had enough to do without also getting rid of unexpected visitors in just over twelve hours. She panicked to think that her mother had come to San Francisco to conduct some business or other and had decided to stay with her daughter rather than finding a hotel. She consoled herself by thinking she could just discuss her departure with her in person and swear her to secrecy. However, if the visitor was her sister, she was in deep trouble.

"I knew things were going too well," she muttered as she keyed her access code into the door and stepped into the front hall with a cheerful, "Hello? Who's there?"

When her greeting elicited only silence, she froze in alarm. Although the Hansen wing had kept her busy for the last few months, she'd been involved in a few controversial assignments before that and had made some dangerous enemies in the process. Her presence at the dedication was well publicized and gave potential foes the perfect chance to break in to her house and wait for her to return, alone and defenseless.

She moved silently to the foyer table. She lowered her shoulder bag to the floor and pulled out the hidden drawer where she hid a type 1 phaser for protection. Keying it to stun, she stepped into the front room with the phaser held in front of her in both hands, sweeping it from left to right, as she'd been taught to do when entering a room that might contain an assailant.

She was surprised that no one was there. At least, in the gathering darkness, the room appeared to be empty, but then she heard a soft snore coming from the sofa that faced the fireplace on the far wall. She could feel her heart pounding as she crept through the room and took aim at the person sleeping there, totally wrapped up in an afghan against the cold temperature of the empty house.

"Let me see your hands, and don't make any quick movements," she ordered, poking the figure with a boot and then moving back out of range, her back to the fireplace. "I won't hesitate to shoot first and ask questions later."

The sleeping figure stiffened slightly, snorted awake, and then placed two hands over the blanket.

"Don't shoot, Kathryn," came a muffled voice. "It's just me."

Janeway's mouth fell open in surprise as a familiar head of tousled salt-and-pepper hair appeared.

"Chakotay!" She lowered the phaser and stared at him. "Chakotay?"

"I was beginning to think I'd missed you," he replied, sitting up and pulling the afghan around his shoulders with a shiver. "I expected you to come by your house yesterday before you went to work. I should have known better."

"I had some things to take care of at headquarters." She paused, realizing that she hadn't had time to think about what she would say to him or how she would handle their hopeless situation. She had no choice now but to "wing it." "When did you get here?"

"I got here a few hours after I left San Antonio and let myself in." He yawned and rubbed his face with his hands. "You know, Kathryn, you should change your door code once every couple of decades, just to be safe."

"I can't believe you're here," she answered, grinning at his remark. "I thought you'd be halfway to Crossroads Station by now."

"I would have been except that I kept thinking about our last conversation." He shivered again. "Would you mind turning up the heat in here? I couldn't access your environmental controls."

"That's because they're voice activated." She brought the equipment online and immediately felt warmth flowing into the room. "Are you hungry? I could use some hot coffee."

"Sure." He followed her into the kitchen and sat down at the table, the blanket still around his shoulders. She replicated coffee, tea, and two bowls of mushroom soup before joining him.

"I've been thinking about that conversation, too," she told him. "In fact, it's why I went straight to the office today."

"I assume you received your next assignment." He looked up from his soup. "Or are you getting another promotion for your work on the Borg wing?"

"Neither." She realized that the time had come to tell him the truth and reached into her coat pocket for the PADD that she'd put there before leaving her office. "This is what was next for me."

He took the PADD and studied it, looking up at her in amazement. "An itinerary? This looks like . . . you intended to follow me to Sanctus V?"

"That's right. I hoped to catch up with you before you left the Federation. I never imagined that you would come back of your own volition. You seemed so intent on continuing your punishment."

"Punishment? I remembered what you said about us having suffered enough." He looked down at the soup, stirring it slowly. "I came back because I had to make sure I heard you correctly."

"You heard right, Chakotay. I think we've both suffered more than enough for our part in what happened."

He looked up at her with hope in his eyes. "Not just that. Didn't I also hear you say that you love me?"

She smiled, relieved that he was the one to bring up that more personal part of their discussion. "I wondered if you heard me. You seemed to gloss over it, so I decided to follow you and keep saying it until I was sure you understood."

"You did?" He reached across the table to take her hand. "You were going to tell me again that you love me?"

"Yes, and I hoped to be able to tell you that I love you every day for the rest of our lives."

Chakotay's eyes widened with surprise. "The rest of our lives?"

"Don't play coy with me, bub." She laughed at the look of astonishment on his face and brushed a tear from her cheek. "You shouldn't be shocked by my love for you. We've both paid dearly for our sins, and I think it's time for us to forgive ourselves, don't you? And forgive each other?

"I don't know if I can forgive myself, Kathryn."

"But you must." She squeezed his hand. "Seven didn't blame you or me for anything that happened, you know that now. You say that you didn't love her, but you were never really unfaithful to her—and you never would have been."

"That's true. So, why do I feel so guilty?" he wondered.

"Because you lived a lie?" she guessed, shrugging her shoulders. "Because for far too long we refused to admit how much we mean to each other."

"It's hard to change the habit of more than a decade."

"I know. I should have been honest with you about my feelings after Voyager got home. I never should have allowed you to marry Seven without resolving our continuing attraction to each other first, and I'm determined to be honest with you now." She stood up and circled the table, looking down into his eyes as she cupped his face in her hands. "I love you, Chakotay, and I don't want to live another day without you."

He stood up abruptly, almost knocking her over in the process.

"Kathryn, you were actually going to follow me all the way to Sanctus V?"

"You saw the itinerary."

"What if I said I didn't want to return to the Federation?" He took her by the shoulders and gave her a gentle shake. "What if I refused to leave Sanctus V?"

"I was ready to deal with whatever you wanted. Maybe I would have built a cabin of my own and harassed you. But, I imagined that we'd work out our future plans together. We've almost always managed to find a workable compromise when we have to, haven't we?"

"What if I demanded that you give up your career? Would you do that?"

"Yes, I would. Is that such a surprise?" She laughed when he nodded. "Well, it's true that I put my career first for far too long, and I hurt you, Seven, and myself in the process, but no longer. I want us to be together, and I'm willing to make any sacrifice necessary to make that happen."

"What will people say when they realize we're together?"

"I know you've been concerned about what people will think, but after all these years? I think they should know better than to think we betrayed Seven. And, frankly, I don't care what they think. If I don't care, why should you?"

He gathered her into a gentle embrace and sighed with joy as she nestled against him, burying her face in his chest as he wrapped them both in the warm blanket that was still around his shoulders.

"I came back, Kathryn, to tell you that I couldn't go back to Sanctus V and live without you any longer. I didn't know how you'd respond. I just knew that I didn't want to waste another minute of our lives by being apart."

"Then we agree." He could hear the joyful lilt in her voice.

"We do?"

She pulled back and smiled into his face. "I've taken extended leave from Starfleet and have plans to visit an idyllic planet with a man I've been in love with for years. You don't expect me to give that up, do you?"

"I suppose not." He brushed her hair away from her face. "I should warn you that I don't have a bath tub."

"Well, I guess you remember how to make one."

He laughed. "I think I can manage it."

"Two years apart is enough." She kissed him softly, surprised when her love for him made it nearly impossible to breathe. "Later, Chakotay, much later, after we've had time to get used to sharing our lives, we'll figure out what we want to do next."

"Okay. But, what about now?"

"Now, we simply enjoy our new-found freedom." She slid her arms around his waist and rested her head on his chest with a sigh of relief. "We've made our peace with Seven and each other, now it's time to be happy."

"Time to be happy?" Chakotay smiled, burying his face in her hair. "I'm ready for that."

The end


End file.
